Moving On
by knirbenrots
Summary: The moment Mosley produced a hit list with details of the team members on it, was the final reason which caused Callen to move. After all, his place had been compromised too many times already.
1. Chapter 1

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 1**

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Whether or not Mosley delivered a hit list with details of the team members on it, it was the final reason which caused Callen to move. After all, his place had been compromised too many times already.

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 _Author's note:_ We all heard the talk of town: Callen moved from his place and Deeks offered him to use the place above his bar. So I wondered what would happen with his former place. Nothing is shown about it, however. This story is just a shorty...

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Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill. I don't own or claim to own the characters who belong to the original tv show, but love to use them for this writing nevertheless.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

For a while it was as if he had a pounding headache. When Callen finally opened his eyes he realized that the bouncing sound wasn't really inside his head.  
It came from one floor down, where somebody felt like bouncing on the door was the best way to gain entrance to a bar.

He groaned and glanced at his cell phone. Three twenty on a Sunday night. Living in this apartment above this place sure had its disadvantages as well. For half a minute he hoped that whoever was down there would stop and leave. But they didn't.  
And so he pulled on his jeans, tucked his gun behind the waistband and grabbed his shirt from the chair next to his bed. After he quickly pulled it over his head before he headed downstairs.  
Once again, the bouncing on the door. Right now, he heard male voices talking to each other in a quick way. As if they were discussing a matter before another action was to be taken.  
Bouncing again.  
Then "Deeks! You there?"

Callen sighed deeply. He should've known. "Bar's closed," he replied loudly.

"Deeks?"

Callen wondered who was looking so desperately for Deeks. "He's not around. Why you need him?"

"LAPD. We're looking for him, this is his place, isn't it?"

He paused a moment but decided it was safe enough to open the door. Indeed, there were two armed LAPD officers standing there. "You got an ID?"

Both officers took what he asked for. Anderson and Olivier - regular ID and nothing which was suspicious at all.

"And you know about this place how?" Callen wanted to know.

The officer called Olivier smiled. "I was in here with the opening. Invited by Deeks, himself."

He nodded. "It's Deeks' bar, that's right. But this is not where he lives. Again, why do you need him?"  
He glanced at the men and motioned to come in. After all, he sure didn't want to draw too much attention to this place. Then Callen said "Listen, I could give him a call. Though I'm pretty sure he's asleep at the moment and that goes for the daily manager of the bar too. So, how can I help?"

"Might want to call him and ask for a coworker of his, guy named Callen. We need to contact him."

He grew suspicious now. "Why?"

Anderson, a lanky but rather plain looking man, let his gaze go over the man in front of them. "Why what?"

"Why do you need Callen?"  
Sure, it was a Sunday night but it didn't have to do anything with the time of the day, or rather the night. Callen simply didn't like a conversation like this since it apparently never ended if they'd continue the 'why's'.  
"Listen," he added with a sigh and he let his hand go to the back pocket of this jeans. He took his ID while he said "You come in here, looking for Deeks but actually looking for Callen. Looks like you found him."  
A smirk appeared on his face when he noticed the surprise in the other man's face.

"Right," Olivier now said. "In that case I suggest you will join us immediately, since we need you to have a serious talk at a different location. Immediately, agent Callen."

The first officer nodded his head and added "Please take a jacket. It's cold outside at this time of a day."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

The three of them were on the road and Callen let his head lean back in the plain passenger seat. He stared straight ahead, a blur of red and bright lights in front of them. Despite the time of the night, there was plenty of traffic on the Los Angeles freeways and streets. Neither Olivier or Anderson spoke and Callen didn't really feel like asking questions. Somehow, those LAPD officers knew of Deeks' connections with NCIS. Why would they need him?  
He slowly inhaled. "Why… How did you know you needed me?"

Olivier, who was driving the car, shook his head. "Too much to explain. You'll be shown."

It took him only a few minutes more before he knew where they were heading to and he couldn't hide a sharp inhale of breath. How on earth hadn't he thought of this before?

"Who…" It was useless to discuss the matter in this driving car. It seemed as if Olivier was slowing down whereas Callen wanted to get to the place as soon as he could. He was out of the car before it really came to a halt.

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 _Thanks for reading!_

Kni®benrots


	2. Chapter 2

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 2**

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A/N: Well, thank you all so much for reading and leaving a review, LostForeverInHisEyes, Wotumba1, shestarsky, F4llon, Callensnext1, countrygirluk56, n4d1n3, JaniceS and Navyfan  
Same goes for simply favoriting this story with only the shortest chapter ever. As I mentioned before it will be a short story too!

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Disclaimer: As ever, I'm grateful to use the characters which belong to CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill for this story. Every other character? Just my own imagination and never meant to resemble anyone you may know!

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _~In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it.~_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

There were more police cars parked in front of this place, and worse, the too familiar yellow tape which was guarded by two uniformed officers. Callen turned to the two officers he arrived with.

"What's going on?" he asked them.

The man called Olivier simply gestured to the small pathway to the front door where a FBI agent and another police officer obviously expected him coming their way. "They'll show you, agent Callen."

Callen lowered the yellow and black crime tape and stepped over it, followed by Olivier. The other officer, Anderson, stayed with his fellow officers.

Again, Callen felt awkward when he saw how the front door was opened and agents and uniformed officers walked in and out. Inwardly he cursed himself — he should have warned the buyers and the estate agent about… well, he didn't know about what. No way he could have told them how he no longer felt save in this house.

He had decided to move because of all the times the place had been compromised. A Comescu, or actually two, Arkady, Joelle... Too many people had known where he lived and the feeling he was being watched returned. Paranoia - perhaps, but he called it safety.  
The paranoia never prevented him to jump in a police car with some officers though, officers who knew Deeks, or of his bar. Yet here they were and in one way or another his agent-like intuition seemed to have ebbed away. Instead a rubbery, heavy feeling reached his legs.

Callen remembered how he'd arrived at that other address, Reinhardts, some years ago and it was about the same as this time: police cars, yellow crime scene tape…  
Back then, he had been angry since he felt all too well how Hetty and Granger wanted to prevent him from going from the office to his house. It reminded him of that situation right now. He swallowed away the memory of the moment when he discovered the words on the wall, painted in red, in blood. And how, back then, he had stormed passed the LAPD and his co-workers to fight his own battle.

This time, it was different. This time, FBI and LAPD asked him to be around, and this time, he was alone. The only one of his team, in a place he knew but only from what once was. This place was not his home any longer, all he had were bittersweet memories. Of the time he lived here with the Rostoffs. Of how Hetty had been the one who made it possible to buy this place. The floor grill, with the specific squeaks once you stepped on it. The mantelpiece where he'd kept the treasured tea box, the carving in the door of his former bedroom… All so familiar, yet not his any longer, just his memories.

He liked what the new owners did with the place. It looked- well, homey. It never mattered right now since it appeared to be a crime scene now.

He shoved away his memories and had to come back to this, to now. A typical FBI agent awaited him and so Callen showed his credentials once more. "Special agent G. Callen, NCIS. So, why you asked for my assistance? What happened in here?" he repeated.

"A true G-man you are then," the FBI agent nearly chuckled. "I'm sorry man. Cases like these work on my nerves." He too took his ID and he introduced himself in the same time "Campbell, Maurinho Campbell, FBI." The small and rather thickset, dark haired man let his gaze go over the NCIS agent. He kept combing his moustache with his left hand as if he expected it to formulate a well-defined reply. "We hoped you could tell us what's going on. You moved?"

He simply nodded as a positive answer and Callen asked in return "The current resident, is she —"  
He didn't finish his sentence. Looking around it was obvious it was a female interior. But then he noticed more. There were drawings on the refrigerator door, next to a family planning calendar. Definitely a family home now, with children's toys, and so he corrected himself "are they — what do you know about them? What's the crime about?"

Campbell shrugged and again he replied. "We hoped you could tell us." He sat down on a dinner chair and motioned Callen to do the same. Still, he was too distracted and he leaned his back against the breakfast bar like he'd done so many times in the past.

Campbell nodded again. "There's this," and he took an envelope from the table on which a yellow sticky note said ' _find 'Callen' or return to sender?_ ' It was written in a neat handwriting.  
Carefully and with gloved hands Campbell re-opened the envelope and showed its content.

He should have expected this. This was the second week in the new year, and this envelope probably was in here about four, maybe three week at least. The usual card, the only Christmas card he ever received. Janvier's.  
Callen carefully lifted the sticky note. This was not what he expected — addressed to the Callen family. And he cursed aloud, and again.

"Anything you need to share, agent Callen?"

He simply hummed and his eyes were as cold as ice. "Who's living in here? Who?"

Campbell sniffled, narrowed his eyes and said "You sure you can't tell me?"

It must have been obvious, since the FBI agent then slowly nodded "Roseanne Cruelly. 34 years old and single mother to Peter Andrews. They both were abducted from this place. At least, that is what the neighbors said."

"Elise?" he asked and he actually didn't expect a confirmation. "What did she see?"

"Looked like an ordinary parcel delivery car. But then, miss Cruelly came running after the driver of that car while screaming and shouting to let her boy go". He changed the subject again. "The neighbor… you know her?"  
"Elise Carlson," Callen replied with a nod and Campbell continued "Ehm, well, she noticed how the boy was carried inside the car and his mother entered it as well. As if she didn't have a choice."

He nodded once again, heaved a deep sigh and took his cell phone. He paced through the part of the room where Campbell still sat.

Never mind the time of this night, there was one person in town who could help him with this. The phone rang several times before it was answered.

"Yeah, Callen, what's up?"

"Eric. I need you to go through camera feed. Veteran Avenue."

"Wait. What about it?" By now, the tech operator sounded more awake, although Callen did hear him yawn when he spoke.

"Cover the street, and maybe Elise Carlson has her own camera still running. You know… Anyway, Elise has eye witnessed an abduction around —" He paused and faced Campbell again, who mouthed "nine thirty" and Callen repeated it.

Eric's voice sounded in his ear. "Your place?"

"Not anymore, you know."

A short hum. "Anything else?"

"Parcel delivery. Keep me informed, will-ya?" Callen then simply disconnected. He rubbed his tired eyes then let his gaze go over the kitchen table, the living room. Nothing really stood out. An ordinary home. Places he'd visited several times during his career. He glanced at his watch. A little passed four in the morning.  
"Why didn't you contact me earlier?" he asked Campbell.

Campbell shrugged. "We didn't think we needed to. I mean, this should be a simple case for our agency, don't you think? LAPD arrived first, they warned us later on. We went through the usual stuff, found this envelope."

"So… why did you start looking for me? I mean, there could be I don't know how many families called Callen in Los Angeles, right? I just don't get it."

This time Campbell rested his elbows on the table and his chin on it while slowly shaking his head. "We would never have found about you, you know. Not without the phone call."

He frowned. "Which call?"

"Olivier didn't tell you?"  
The look on his face probably said enough and Campbell heaved a deep sigh. "Once we arrived, the phone in here rang. We let it ring. Checked later though. The caller, anonymous of course, called before, earlier this night. He left a message for you."

By now, he was grateful for the support of the breakfast bar. "Let me listen."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

It was only about half an hour later when Sam sprinted up the stairs to the operations room where he knew he'd find the younger analyst. "Hey Eric? Anything you can tell me?"

"Sam!" Eric swiveled his desk chair to face the large special agent entering Ops. Different from Sam, who was dressed in his usual way, Eric wore a jogging suit and it looked as if he jumped out of bed only minutes ago. Which, Sam figured, might be a fact indeed. "Callen called you too?"

"He did. Only a short call in which he practically ordered me to find out more about Janvier."

There was a deep frown when Eric asked "Janvier? What the heck, Sam… He didn't tell me about that. All he wanted me to do was look for a car leaving his previous place. And he sounded pretty worried."

Sam glared at the only coworker around and shook his head. "Wouldn't you be, Beale?"

A blush appeared on Eric's face. "I— well, well Sam, I don't know. Never been in such a situation."

"Not even me, Eric. You ought to be grateful for that too, man… This is bad, Eric, since Callen is pretty sure that Janvier is behind it all. And this whole thing between Callen and Janvier is sick. Janvier will never stop trying to hurt G."  
Sam sat down in the chair next to Eric's and he continued "So, G called me. There were those phone calls, meant for him, and he —" he shook his head, still having trouble to the words Callen simply spoke and which Sam now simply repeated to Eric. "He needs us to find about Janvier and what that guy is up to."

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 _Thank you for reading!_

Kni®benrots


	3. Chapter 3

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 3**

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A/N Thank you, Nat and Guest, for showing me a major mistake about this address and Reinhardt's. I corrected it and feel rather stupid for not being sharper. Anyway, thanks for that, and to all the other readers: glad you were around. I hope I thanked everyone in person for leaving his or her review on the previous chapter. And well, once you've stopped reading this chapter, I hope you'll leave some comment just so that I know whether or not I'm on the right track with this storyline! Enjoy.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _~The problem is that when we speak of plan B's, we already negate the possibility of moving on with plan A~ [Isaac Herzog]_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue, previously**

There was nothing new he heard from the other side of the line and Callen doubted if the FBI agent would ever find out about what the words meant to him. Outsiders didn't know and Callen didn't feel like explaining.  
Through the years he had carefully boxed the evil words Janvier had once spoken 'it's all about revenge', 'I live for only one thing — to kill what you love'. And the 'I know where you live' and 'I know who you care about'. But then, here they were again and although the voice was scrambled this time and probably changed digitally, Callen figured there was only one person knowing of the exact words, except for himself and that was Janvier.

This was the moment he knew he needed his friend and partner. He still held the phone through which Janviers words had just sounded and grabbed his own cell phone. He knew Eric was already searching for a car in which the owner of this house was taken. So, first he called Eric again.  
"What've you have Eric, anything yet?"

\- "I was supposed to call the moment I have something Callen. So… no, nothing yet."

He breathed out slowly. Eric was always fast, accurate. If Janvier was behind this all, Callen doubted that Eric was going to find something at all.  
"Listen up, I'm going to call Sam as well. It's bad Eric, so work as hard as you can. Meanwhile… could you do another search?"

There was a confirmative hum and so Callen continued "What can you find out about outgoing calls from the United States Penitentiary in Florence?"

This time there was a sharp gasp heard.  
\- "You mean…"

"Damn right I mean this, Eric. Try, will you? As I said, I'm gonna ask Sam to come over and help you. Will join the two of you soon in there, Beale," Callen said. He then hung up and chewed the inside of his cheek for a brief moment, staring at both phones. He pressed another number and within two rings, Sam answered. -"G?"

He wearily ran a hand over his tired face and said "Yeah, me. Sam, ehm, I've been called in for a case. Going to need your help, buddy. Eric is working on it already."

\- "On what, G? What's going on?"

"Janvier. I think — there's an abduction going on. It must be him, behind it."

\- "Janvier?" Sam muttered a low curse, something he hardly ever did. "What makes you think — no wait. Who, where? And why call you?"

"A long story. To keep it short, could you come over to the office and work with Eric? He'll brief you. I'm not quite sure if I should wake the others too. We may discuss that the moment I'm in there, okay?"

\- "Yeah. I'll head over to assist Beale. Should be there in twenty, so… See you in there G. Take care. We'll handle this, right?"  
Sam disconnected the call and shook his head. Why now? They hardly were all up and running after the Mexico black op which had left Callen hurt more than any of the others. It also left them without anyone in charge too, since Hetty decided to take time off to sail the Pacific. Mosley was dismissed and not missed at all and ever since, Callen, as a team leader, was asked to keep assistant director Ochea in the loop about the ongoing cases.

For once, Sam wished Callen was wrong and it meant nothing. Still, his gut feel made him hurry into a shower and see what was going on himself.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue || present time**

The look on his face must've been a grim one since the FBI agent stared at him. "Could you tell me what the hell is going on, agent Callen?"

He shook his head. "You'd better let your boss know he should contact NCIS' director Vance. From now on, Campbell, this is a joint case at least. But probably we'll take over."

Maurinho Campbell finally got on his feet to and leaned forward on the back of the chair he sat on seconds before. He let his gaze go over the man who paced in and out the kitchen. "So far it's FBI and you know it. For all I know you are involved but refuse to tell me how. I let you make phone calls. I handed you the owner's phone and you paled while listening to a voice mail message. Meant for her? I seriously doubt it. So give me one freakin' reason why your agency should be involved when all I get is that it is about YOU, agent Callen."

He locked eyes with the FBI man. The man was no fool and razor sharp at this time of the day. Campbell no doubt had done without any sleep at all. Callen gritted his teeth before he continued "This is personal indeed —"  
Before he could continue, the phone he held until some moments ago interrupted with a far too bright song he'd heard before. Callen and Campbell looked at the item, then Campbell cocked his head before he simply nodded.  
Then Callen took the phone and pressed the small green button to get connected. He hesitated a second before he simply announced "Yes?"

The caller didn't seem too surprised to have his call answered. An unknown voice and definitely not Janvier.  
\- "Who's speaking?"

Callen didn't really want to tell. "The one you're expecting."

\- "Callen." There was no hesitation.

He was reluctant to answer, maybe even more than before. So the unknown caller continued.  
\- "I suppose you'll want them back."

He hummed as a reply.

\- "You may follow the instructions then. Head over to LAX. Take this phone with you. There'll be more instructions. Soon."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

Sam's phone buzzed and with one glance at the display he accepted it and simply said "G... man, anything new?"  
He listened to what his partner said and nodded as he understood. "We'll look into that as well. No more clues?" After another pause during which Callen spoke, he nodded several times again. "Got it, G. Keep your line open."

Sam sighed as he closed the call. "We're going to need the others too, Eric. Callen was supposed to come over to join us. Instead he's got another challenge, which is yours as well. They got another phone call and he's going to go and find this house owner. I need you to trace the call".  
His dark brown eyes were serious and there was more concern in it than usual.

This time it was Eric to heave a deep sigh. He shoved his glasses higher up his nose and said "You got a number or do I have to ping it at the address?"

"Try the last one. And try and keep track of Callen's usual cell's GPS. He's heading at LAX at the moment." Sam cleared his throat. "Just let me know what I can do?"

"A lot. Listen, now I'm trying to find out about Janvier. Maybe you could take that as your search. I've got the search for the delivery guy running already. If I'm to take to trace these incoming calls I seriously doubt I can take any other tasks."

"I should call Nell and ask her around to assist." Sam checked the time. Perhaps the other team members usually slept a little longer, but right now at five forty he really needed more hands on deck indeed. "You know what, I'll wake the others too."

"Wait Sam, got something. I think it was a 'Go-Get-It' delivery. It's the only parcel delivery with something yellow and blue in the logo. That's what Callen's neighbor mentioned."

Sam shook his head. "He doesn't live there any longer, Beale. But well, I suppose you should go and find if any of the administrators knows about a delivery last night."

"This time of the day?" Eric shook his head. "No way. Look…" he motioned at the screen, "Not opened until seven."

Sam muttered something unheard but immediately after that, Eric heard the distant sound of a phone ringing before someone answered and he knew Sam was calling the others for whatever tasks that lay ahead.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || on the road**

Callen was grateful that the FBI agent offered to take his state issued Ford. It allowed him to be on the road as soon as he could.  
He wanted to stash away the fact that this was between Janvier and him. All he cared right now was about the new mission — get the woman and boy into safety again. They had every right to a normal life. After all, they never chose to get into his life, but they did.

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 _Thank you for reading!_  
Kni®benrots


	4. Chapter 4

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 4**

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 **Disclaimer:** They say G. Callen is fictional! Nêh, no way… Still, I'm so glad he wanted to play along, though he usually lives in the place created by Shane Brennan, and belonging to CBS. Just like to have fun with him in here!

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A/N Once again I simply say thank you, readers, followers, reviewers. I truly feel grateful for your support. Be sure to let me know if any hick-ups are noticed which may feel awkward in this storyline.

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They say a restless body can hide a peaceful soul.  
Life is motion, Life is Flowing, Life is dawning.  
How I treasure every minute  
Being part of it, being in it  
With the urge to move on  
[ABBA]

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

While driving in the indicated direction he decided to call his partner again.  
-"Sam," Callen called in, "I'm on my way to LAX. What if..."

"Eric's got this, buddy." It sounded confident, Sam knew. More than he actually felt. Because he simply didn't know how far his friend would go, Sam trusted he wasn't going to fly some place just to go with Janvier's demands. "We're working on it, in here. As long as you're keeping your phone in the air so we can track it. Keep an eye on you, y'know?"

Sam pretended he did not hear the deep sigh from his partner who was on the road. "Do take care, G. If Janvier is—"

-"I know." Callen simply interrupted.

Sam nodded, invisible for Callen. "Kensi and Deeks ought to be in here any time soon."

-"Okay."

Useless to repeat the warning and after the shortest hesitation, Sam simply said "See you."

-"Same to you, big guy." A short click and the call ended.

Again, Sam inhaled deeply before he let the air slowly escape. He didn't know what to think of this all.  
He turned to Eric. "You able to follow the phone's signal?"

"Sure thing. Working on the message in Callen's former house now. There were at least two messages, remember?"

Sam hummed a positive reply. "Until the others are in here, tell me again, where do I start?"

Eric shrugged. "The car, perhaps? The one in which the owners of this house left the place. Maybe you could focus on it. If you wanna check the traffic case in a four block radius around the place? Say… from half an hour before the first 911 call came through until half an hour after it. See if you can find anything."

Sam took a seat behind the high placed desk where Nell usually had her eyes glued on the screens. "Should be able to handle that," he smiled confidently at Eric.

For a couple of minutes both worked in silence, each focusing on the data displayed on the screens in front of them. Then, there were short pings coming from Eric's side, which made Sam look up as well.

"Completely encrypted," Eric spoke in despair. "And far too many gateways. Whoever is behind that first call, I don't know Sam."

"Callen's pretty sure it was Janvier himself. Knowing Callen, he had to have a reason."

"How you want to find out?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe we should ask the guy himself?"

"Wait... what do you mean?" Eric said.

"There's no-one to lead us, right? You think I should give deputy director Ochoa or Vance a call, asking for permission to pay Janvier a visit?"

Eric inhaled loudly through his nose and cocked his head a little. "Mhoah… maybe you would need some company. You wanna take the happy couple a.k.a Deeks and Kensi with you?"

"Was thinking 'bout Nell."

"But…"

"Butts.. We don't speak about those at Ops my friend," Sam chuckled. "Listen, I get it, you would want to have Nell in here to assist you."

Eric slowly cocked his head, then nodded. "She's sharper than I am, mostly. We, well, we enhance each other's work. Like you and Callen do."

Sam sighed softly. "Ah well. Perhaps we need to work the case in here first. Knowing Callen, sure thing, he'll be needing us in here too. I really can't imagine he'll go and take a flight straight into the unknown, no way."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Within half an hour after the calls Sam made, Nell, and Kensi and Deeks, had entered Ops. It took only some minutes to discuss the information which was available.

"So she - Roseanne Cruelly - is a single mother, divorced 5 years ago. Now, what is worth mentioning is that her ex-husband died 3 years ago. Hit by a drunk driver while he came from the cinema. With his son, who was nearly 6 back then and who witnessed all of it," Nell informed the others. In a soft voice she added "How sad."

"Sad indeed," Sam agreed. "But let's focus. We need to find them, preferably before Callen does, right? See if you can find anything else useful for us."

Nell clapped her lips and sent a short smile his way. "You know, I thought… well, if anyone could find this mother and child, linked to Callen's former house, well, they, whoever they are, can find him as well, right?"

"My thoughts too, Nellverine," Deeks said. "Especially because I always figured Callen used an alias while living on Veteran Avenue."

"But—" Sam hesitated a while. "I'm pretty sure Janvier knew. I remember when Callen showed me a Christmas card sent by that piece of trash. And it wasn't sent at the office, I would've known before G told me about it."  
He fell silent and shook his head again.

"The question is… is it really Janvier? Eric, did you find out about his calls, visits and what's more?" Kensi asked. "Because if he still is safely put away, he has to have accomplices. Who already planned the next move," she reasoned.

"And this woman and her kid, they are a target. And actually nothing more than a bargaining chip, for what Janvier wants most, to get to Callen and hurt him," Nell concluded. She didn't add her deeper thoughts, that it was beyond hurting. They all knew Janvier was up to revenge.

"We'd better go and check their place," Deeks said. He simply turned and left the doors, which were still opened. He knew that Kensi would follow.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || on the road **

Outsiders should never be dragged into the nastier side of his work, one of the rules he nearly always could keep up to.

Callen really hated the fact that he didn't have any clues whatsoever, just obeyed the very first direction he got and all he did was to hope Sam and Eric would be able to find out more.

In fact he felt rather tired and lost for sharp thoughts after a short night. He shook his head and shot a glance at the cell-phones he placed on the passenger seat.

Another incoming call. Not his own phone, but the one he took from the house. Hér house, but was it her phone too?  
Callen heaved a sigh, wishing Sam was here with him. He resisted the urge to simply drive straight to the office. Wouldn't it be better after all to do so? He shook his head to himself. Not at this point, it should have been a decision to make before he drove in the direction they wanted.

"Now what?" Callen simply asked after accepting the call.

"Leave the car. Take the G-shuttle."  
The message was short as it was, then an roaring laugh sounded. "Sounds like a joke, right, agent G. Callen?"

He didn't really feel like responding and so the person calling repeated "Like I said, get rid of the car and your cell phone. G-shuttle's next, until we call you back."  
The call ended with that and the minute Callen dropped the phone he knew someone followed his movements just like Eric did. He checked his rearview mirrors. But nothing stood out. He wasn't really keen on public transport. He figured he still had about some minutes before he'd reach the parking near LAX. Still some time to contact his team.  
"Anything yet?"

-"Nope. The others gathered here earlier," Eric said.

Great. Different angles to look at this case. "Listen, gonna ditch this phone any time soon. Will use a single GPS-tracker. Got this other phone, took it from the house. Number 728-233-5933. Guess it's a burn phone, see if you can track it though."

There was some mumbling, Nell's, he heard and then Eric who probably repeated the words.

-"Are you being followed?"

"Maybe," he said. "But I haven't spotted anyone…"

-"What's the next step, Callen?"

"Public transport. They want me to take a bus." He didn't have to tell he wasn't fond of it.

-"We can try to get in there too."

The idea was pretty okay, but he ditched it all the same. "You wouldn't make it in time. Listen, I'll be on the G-shuttle until I hear from them again. Try and stay in the loop. Have Kensi and Deeks —"

-"They're at the Veteran Avenue address right now," Eric interrupted. "We'll find them, Callen, don't worry."

"You're saying I could quit this?"

His partner took over the call and Callen expected they were all listening anyway.  
-"No, just play along, G. But stay on alert. See you soon."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

Nell held the tablet in her left hand and said. "This phone Callen has with him is probably ia burn phone and Callen already mentioned he thinks it is useless to try and trace it any further."

A short ping came from Eric's computer and after a few seconds he said "The delivery truck... Got it Sam. It took a while, but I found it at Alameda Street, near the railroad. God knows where these people are by now, I mean, it could be anywhere if you'd ask me," Eric said. "This district is packed with warehouses. You think Kensi 'n —"

Sam interrupted "Sure. As soon as they think they're ready at the house and have any information we can use."  
He slowly let the breath he held escape through his nose. At this very moment his partner was on his way to an unknown destination and at the same time, the people Callen wanted to save were at another unknown location. Next to that, the people behind this were unknown. All he knew was that Callen was sure the orders came from Janvier, who would never admit that.

"Crap… Where do we start, guys?"

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading. As ever, feel free to leave a review!_

Kni®benrots


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Moving on**

* * *

A/N Thank you, as ever, for taking the time and the effort to leave a comment. It really helps me while writing this story, to polish or make slight changes in where I was heading to. Please keep it going! And to those who just tuned in: there's always the time to start from scratch until you get where you want to be. Right?  
Also, for those who are locals, it will be clear from the start that I am not too sure about public transport in the City of Angels. The only experience I have is using a Blue Bus and some Metro Lines as well. So forgive the mistakes, if ever you notice them!

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

~ There will always be excuses, arguments and questions of timing when moving on ~ [Lara Giddings]

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

* * *

A bus… Not his usual thing.  
Callen dropped a few coins in the small box next to the entrance, took his ticket and checked if any seats were available. He smiled apologetic at a teenage girl before he sat down next to her, nearly in the back of the bus. From this point of view all looked normal.

He studied the street-plan which showed on both the left as on the right sides. This bus did some kind of loop only to end up at the same place where he entered.

What if all he did was getting himself send through the city just to keep him of finding who he wanted to find? It was a possibility. But then anyone who really knew him was aware of his team and its capabilities. No way — if Janvier was the mastermind Callen was doing exactly what was expected. It was just that... he wanted to be faster, sharper. Feeling less guilty too. He knew there would always be excuses, arguments and questions of timing when moving on and so he simply did move on. And if Sam and the team weren't able to get to find the woman and child, he knew he would be willing to do what Janvier wanted.

By now his shirt clung to his skin. The air-condition in this place was poor.

He wondered what would come next and if Eric could do something with the number at all.

The girl next to him pulled the line and the message 'stop required' sounded. He got up to let her go past him and only some moments later moment Callen sat down again the phone in his jacked vibrated.  
An incoming text, no direct call. 'Switch to the metro, take the Silver Line'.

Callen checked the map. It was only two stops from now. He wondered if or how he could reach his office. But above all, he wondered who checked his whereabouts. It was either in the phone or someone managed to tag his clothes. He shook his head. It was useless to let his co-workers know. They knew how to follow his tracks too, by this GPS tracker he put in his badge himself.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

Kensi parked the silver Ford in the street and carefully looked around before she got out of the car.  
To everyone in the street, the place itself was deserted again, as it should be. The yellow-and-black crime tape was still tied to a lamppost and a tree, across the path towards the front door of the place they were going to. And there was still one police officer guarding it.

Deeks showed his badge at his colleague, or actual a former fellow worker, with a smile.  
Kensi flashed the officer a smile too and while showing her badge at the same time she added "Agent Blye, NCIS and detective Deeks. We'd like a short look around inside, if that's alright with you."

The officer smiled back at her, nodded and both Kensi and Deeks lifted the tape slightly and ducked to move underneath it.

"No-one else around, Bonham?" Deeks asked.

"Not any longer. Guess you two are completing the visits of the alphabet-soup. Ah, or actually, that's exaggerating. But NCIS was around last night too, according to the logs. And of course LAPD and FBI."

"We get that," Kensi said as she opened the door. Immediately after that she took a pair of black rubber gloves from the pocket of her jacket. Her partner did the same.

"What'll we be looking for, Fern?"

"Anything that links Callen to this place. Or to Janvier..." Kensi said. She looked around in the living room which looked nothing like she remembered from the one time she'd visited Callen during the time he lived here.

"Cozy," Deeks mentioned. He shared the same memory, although he didn't hear Kensi's thoughts. He walked to a low cabinet with some drawers. "Actually, I don't like to go someone else's stuff, y'know. I mean, after all they should and could be back in here, right? They won't like it a bit when they find out we know every single detail of their life."  
He studied a framed picture which stood on the cabinet. "Sweet kid. What did Eric say, he's about 9 years old?"

"Deeks... take a look at this."

He turned around and saw Kensi standing at the table with an envelope. "It's addressed to the Callen family". She opened it with care and gasped just slightly.

"What?"

"Janvier. Callen was right. It has to be Janvier."  
She took a few pictures of the card inside and paused a few seconds. After another look around she said "You're right. It doesn't feel good to go through her stuff."  
From the place she stood, she let her gaze go through the room and the kitchen. It definitely was a place where somebody loved to live and with a short moment of complete surprise, Kensi wished she could meet the woman who lived here and ask her how she managed to make visitors feel at home like she did.  
She smiled briefly at her fiancée and said "We're better off at the office, don't you think?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **meanwhile || crossing Los Angeles**

It would take another ten minutes before Callen could switch to the Metro-line. Even with the sun shining just as much as he was used too, this place was shady and a breeze made it feel much cooler than in the bus.  
Most people who waited took a seat on one of the uninviting benches. Others were leaning against the concrete poles or a vending machine, yet he was too restless to do the same. As ever, he chose to stay as close to the wall until the connecting line would appear. Meanwhile he kept checking his surroundings. Still, nothing suspicious.  
Once again, he felt confused and actually lost for actions to take. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and mentally went by all the scenario's he could think of.  
From a distance he heard the roars of the motor of another bus coming nearer and some of the people – probably the ones who were used to commute like this – got ready to move to the platform.

The very moment Callen saw those people move forward he knew that it never was the intention that he was going to make a transfer to another line. Both from the left as from the right men came walking his way. All looked like each other. Like an army of four – same haircut, the goatee, even the same uniformed way of dressing.

And Callen was in this line of work long enough to know they followed him one way or another, all along the way. He remained calm for the eye, yet his mind was in a whirl. He would be able to fight his way out when it were only two opponents. Four, he doubted, or actually, he knew he wouldn't be able to get away unharmed, or heaven forbid, get innocent bystanders harmed.  
Besides, he reasoned that they would guide him to the woman and child he wanted to save. Janvier was about to have him punished, and so he had to make clear that they were strangers to each other.

One of the men approached him, let his gaze go over him and said, never raising his voice "Let's step aside"  
He must have expected Callen to simply follow his instructions, or was an experienced man himself. Near another vending machine, he halted.  
"Your jacket, please? Phone, keys, watch, badge, oh, and of course, weapons."

Callen tilted his head only slightly as a half confirmation. There was no need to refuse, nor to endanger anyone around. It must've been the phone after all that was bugged, enabling these men to keep track of him all the time.  
Slowly, he took the items from the pockets from his jeans and his jacket, handed them to one of those four who stood nearby and who reached out for them.

"Jacket too."

It wasn't that he wore it because it was cold outside. It was by far his favorite item in the wardrobe, and he really didn't want to lose it. Still, he unzipped it and took it off.

"Good. Now you come with me and Roger. Slowly, again."

What else was there to do but to cooperate?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"He's on the move again," Eric said, pointing at the green dot on the screen. How Callen had done it, he didn't know, but he did know that Callen told Sam about it.

Nell switched her focus from her own computer to where Eric pointed and nodded. "It fits the time of departure he supposed to take." Immediately after, she heaved a deep sigh. "I simply don't like this thing. He's on the move for quite some time now, and both you and Sam are guessing from before dawn already about what the next move may be. But it's still guessing, right?"

"It's all we can do from here. All seams to simple and yet we don't know what'll happen next."

"Callen would know what the best next steps would be."

"Well… since he isn't here it is up to us," Eric figured.

The doors slid open and the three remaining agents entered. "Anything new?" Sam asked the analysts.

Eric was the one who replied. "Not really, Sam. It looks like Callen is doing what he is supposed to do; hopping from bus to bus or whatever system of public transport he can find. All ordered around, but by who?"

"His favorite foe, so it seems," Deeks said. "It's more than just a hint coming from Callen you had this morning, it was clear enough to us as well. The card we found left a message for Callen's family."

"What exactly did it say?" Nell asked.

"This," Kensi said, and she sent a picture of the written text to the central screen.

 _'Dear Callen, I'm glad to find out you finally found love. Remember my promise?'_

"Signed by MJ. Damnit." Sam said, after he let the message sink in.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **crossing Los Angeles**

It all was so polite. The guy who spoke so far motioned to follow him and Callen was all to aware that there were two more of the bearded men behind him. They climbed the few steps up the stairs from the platform to the parking next to the station.

"Passenger seat, please," the man said.

Callen got in, and while the speaking man was the one who waited a moment until he took his seat, the companying man called Roger slid behind the wheel, and another one immediately behind the driver. Roger pushed a small button, and the lock of the door next to Callen closed. Even if he wanted to open the door and try to get away, he wouldn't be able to open it.  
Finally, the man he considered as the leader of those four men got in, behind him.  
"Any chance we could have a proper conversation and you tell me where we're heading to?" Callen tried.

There was no real reply, but some rustling sounds came from behind. The moment Callen turned his gaze into the rear view mirror he saw the needle coming his way so fast that it was impossible to avoid the sharp prick entering his skin in his neck. He cursed while his hand went to the spot immediately. It was only seconds that his vision started blurring. The clock in front of him told him it was 1:24 PM and although he tried to calculate how long ago the Cruelly family went missing, he passed out before he did the computation.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

A/N - Thank you all for reading and commenting on this story. Really, I appreciate all of your responses!  
It may have been a bit unusual that, so far, the team hasn't followed Callen's steps more accurately. I hope I can explain it a bit better in this chapter or later on.  
For your information: I have never traveled by train through the US. The world-wide-web showed how an Amtrak coach should look like. For the sake of this chapter I decided to switch the luggage area with the accessible toilet room.

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill. I don't own or claim to own the characters who belong to the original tv show [too bad!] but love to use them for this writing nevertheless.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"Can we find out more about Callen's destination, Nell?" Kensi asked.

The small red head nodded and the bus line Callen had talked about appeared on the large screen. "It's a kind of loop through a part of the city, like the first one was. And if you're going to ask if I know what the plan is? Not a clue. We tried to trace the phone. Callen gave us the number, but it was in vain. So... all in all I'm glad he placed this GPS tracker himself."

"How about camera's? I mean, he got in and out that first bus."

"Believe it or not," Eric responded instead, "there was a malfunction in the systems at all bus stations, earlier today. It all functions perfectly right now."

Sam was silent all the time and wondered which scenario they were dealing with and even more, how Callen was dealing with it all. When it came to saving the innocent he knew Callen was sometimes too reckless.  
"Any news from ADX Florence yet, Eric?"

"Janvier... All they told me he's still locked up. No solitary, but he's still a loner. In the past few years, only a few inmates were released from there. So far, we don't know if he kept in contact with any of those men. He's allowed three calls a week and from what I've been told, he uses them all."

Sam sighed. "Any chance to find out who he called?"

"Privacy," Eric shook his head. "We've send in a request already."

"It doesn't add up guys," Deeks said after a short pause. "Callen moved out of that house when... four months ago? Then Janvier sends a card about two months later. The guy is in prison, so somebody else is his ears and eyes in here. But why now? If Janvier was after Callen and has the place observed he could've struck years ago."

"Yeah. Right," Sam muttered. He too could have used his partner and his sharp thinking. "Why can't it be as simple as the simple fact that Janvier knows where Callen lives, has some connections which recently come and check to see if anything changed around the house."

"A child's bike, fresh shrubbery, different curtains. A female around," Kensi understood. "But that doesn't explain the fact that Callen wasn't around for the past few months."

Nell nibbled her lip and let the information sink in. "What do we know about Roseanne Cruelly at all? What if she has a partner who is hardly ever seen?"

Deeks shook his head. "No signs whatsoever in the place we just visited, right, Fern? But you know what? You start looking in the systems, once again, and Kensi and I'll visit the neighbor."

"How about… I will visit the neighbor and you two will pay Janvier a visit. I'm pretty sure that Nell will have arranged a warrant the moment you arrive in Colorado," Sam suggested. "We need all the intel we can get on his financials and phone calls guys, and for now we need to play it by the book".

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

somewhere **crossing Los Angeles **

There were the slow shakes. The slight nausea. The repeating vibration, the humming noises and the continuous and repeating shades, even with his eyes closed. He more or less sat against a wall. Or was it?  
He focused on every limb until he finally decided he was unharmed.  
It took a few minutes before all of it was combined and with a soft moan he finally had the guts to open his eyes. But Callen didn't really know if he wanted to have his eyes opened, since his vision was still blurred. With a groan he hoisted himself up to a real sitting position.

"About time."

She only spoke those two words quietly, her voice shaky and uncertain. All to avoid sounding scared or hostile, it was clear immediately to him. Through his lashes he let his gaze go over the scene in front of him. The woman kept her right arm hugged around the boy's small shoulders — a protective mother.

"A train?" Callen asked.

The woman nodded her answer and paused another minute before she asked "Why are you in here?"

Callen shrugged. "Because…" he started, then hesitated a few more seconds and continued "I was looking for the two of you. I'm a federal agent." He scraped his throat and said "Can't show you though, they took my badge."

"Are you alone?" The question came from the boy.

Callen remembered how curious Kamran used to be when she was the boy's age.

Like his mother, the boy's hair was dark and his eyes were light grey, with thick and dark lashes. Callen switched his gaze from the boy back to the mother.  
Her hair was cut at shoulder length and slightly wavy and messy at the same time. If though she felt uncomfortable with his stare, she shove a hair lock behind her left ear. Her ears weren't too big but they were slightly sticking out, he noticed.  
With a calm smile, Callen addressed the boy again "Yes, Peter. I came here all alone. What can you tell me, where are we and what do you know about it all?"

The boy looked up his mother as if he was uncertain to be the one to reply.

"You know his name?" she asked instead of answering.

With a short sigh he admitted "I do. Like I know yours, Roseanne."

She frowned and replied as if she was defending herself. "It's Rose."  
It was still reluctant when she continued "Peter was supposed to go to bed. But I promised he could watch the baseball game and so he did. Until someone rang the bell and he was the one who opened the door. It shouldn't have happened. Before I knew he shouted out, I came to see and… well, they simply took him, and I followed. How could I leave him alone?"

"You did what every mother would do."

She tilted her head just slightly, as if she wanted to hear something he didn't mean. Then she continued "They drove us to Union Station, or nearby it. Put us in a different car, and lead us to where we are right now."

"Where exactly are we?"  
It was in a train, that much he knew. Still, he missed a bit of time and observation.

"Heading to San Francisco in a train, the Coast Line. At least, that is what I've heard." She lowered her chin and locked eyes with him. "And this is a crew's department in this particular coach. Where they leave their stuff and spare things, I figure."

The lay out of the room they were in would explain that. Callen let her information sink in. So far, he couldn't make any sense of it. "You speak of 'they'. Any chance you recognized anyone?"

"Two of them were at our place. Large men, both with beards. I guess they're native. I mean, we've seen… men with beards before, but they'd have dark eyes. Those of nine-eleven, I mean." She licked her lips, nervous now. "Those doors are locked, I've tried to get out already. Would you know a way out?"

Callen got up on his feet, unsteady though as he tried not to be jerked around by the movements. There was only one regular door in the back and some kind of small hatch up, on the other side. But there weren't any stairs to reach that hatch, that much he noticed. Although the usual sound of the train blocked almost every other noise, he thought he heard sounds of running water on the other side. He wasn't a regular traveler with public transport and he said  
"Is it a kitchen unit in there?"

She hummed and shook her head. "Changing Rooms and showers."

"Okay."  
Callen stood and leaned against the sidewall of this compartment. He looked around and wondered what he could do to get them out of this place. It was filled with suitcases, a broken sink which probably came from one of the bedrooms in this Amtrak and boxes with an unknown contents. He heaved a deep sigh and had a next question. "You got any idea how long it'll take until the next stop?"

She squeezed her light eyes slightly, took a deep breath and her stance and her voice were very reserved when she replied "What is this, some kind of interrogation?"

It was his time to sigh. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm trying to find a way out of here for both of you."

"I still… Really, I don't get it. Why did they take you in here and why are you alone?"

"Because eventually they're after me. Not you."

She gasped. "You are Callen…"  
There was a glint of something else in her eyes but she didn't add anything more.

The boy widened his eyes. "Mom. Is he who the men asked you about?"

Like he expected. He hated moments like these.  
How many times had he told his own team, trained his friends, to be careful with family and relatives. He remembered the scary day when Aiden was found and endangered by Tahir Kahled, despite the training of Sam and his son.  
But these two in here, with him… This was his doing. What if he had kept an eye on their place, what if someone had told them who lived in the house before them? What if they'd been trained to notice anything extraordinary in their street? Callen never wanted to play the what-if game, but he figured this was on him and it was definitely a situation he had wanted to prevent.

He shot a glance at her, then nodded and said "I know. I should have warned you." He inhaled and slowly let the air out, then had the guts to smile at the boy, Peter. "I bet you found my name carved in the wardrobe door in your bedroom."

Again, the boy's eyes widened and he slowly nodded too.

"When I was a bit older than you, I used to live where you live right now. Then I moved and about seven years ago, I had the chance to buy the place. I had some great years in there, until… well, it was time to move on. It's good to see what you did to the place, Rose."

He noticed how she clenched her jaw shortly in some kind of frustration. "You been there?"

Callen explained as calmly as he could. "I was called in by someone who knows my name. Your place was what police calls a crime scene, after all you were reported as being kidnapped. To me, it was as easy as 1-2-3. They – those men, they must've thought you two lived with me in there. What a better way to hurt me but to take you away from me. To expect me to come and save your lives. Well… here we are."  
He let these words sink in, for her, and he noticed how her shoulders slumped. "Rose… that is why I ask about the timing. If the two of you could get out of here, you could warn someone, right?"

"Yeah, mom. I told you we should get away!"

The clear eyes of the woman glanced at her son, then locked with Callen's. "It won't work."

His gaze was harder now since he at least wanted them to try. "You got a pen?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"Sam?!" He heard Eric call out loud, only moments before he headed out of the office. He looked up to see the younger man heading downstairs and his way.

"Sam, the GPS signal... it stopped. Got the location on your phone already. I thought — I figured you might want to know?"

"Good thinking Eric." Sam took his phone but Eric already said "Harbor Gateway Transit center. Maybe Nell and you could go and check?"

Sam faced his younger colleague and slowly shook his head. "You think she can work alone for a while Eric?"

"You mean... oh no. That would be far too dangerous, Sam. No way."

Sam shook his head again and a dimple appeared in his right cheek as he smiled, despite of all the stress he felt. "I'll be around. It's time you get your eyes used to the outside world, Beale. You go and tell her she can go and have the systems running, then you change your disguise and get your ass to my car."

Again Sam shook his head, now to himself, when he saw the disbelief in Eric's eyes right before the man flip-flopped upstairs, skipping every on step.  
He trained the tech to do more practical fieldwork and he'd have Eric's back when necessary. And he knew how Callen trusted Eric too, while Eric would do practically everything to help the senior agent. It had always been that way, something between Eric and Callen which was already there before Sam even joined NCIS.

If they'd hurry, Sam knew he might meet with Callen at this transport hub. But somehow, deep down, Sam also had some doubts about the whereabouts of his friend.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave a review, it is much appreciated!

Kni®benrots


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Moving on**

* * *

A/N Guest 1 and Guest 2: although I do not know who you are, I want to thank you so much for leaving your reviews. Same goes for yours, Wotumba1, countrygirluk56, JaniceS, Mulderette and LostForeverInHisEyes: grateful as ever for your kind words, thanks!

For everyone out there who simply decided to read: thank you too. Please feel free to comment on this story. Really, I appreciate all of your responses! Just let me know if you like what you read, or please tell if it is disappointing and in which direction you would have wanted this story to go.

Kni®benrots

* * *

We move on

Seeing us imprisoned

And we don't wanna let go

But then you're looking for freedom

Leaving me all alone

And if you'd ever think twice

Maybe we could have survived

Things are going south for me

I'm too tired to speak my mind

And the silence has drowned out the sound

Words, they have retired

[Di-rect]

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **somewhere in a train**

"A pen? How could that help me?"

There was that look again and the shortest huff. Short, but heard. Distrust? Callen didn't know. He still was tired and she wasn't Nell or Kensi and so he kept calm.  
"Ever since I know you didn't bring your mobile Phone, I know we can't call in any help from here, right? So I'll need a pen to write a phone number for you to call in case you find a phone before I do. It would help me too to warn the federal agencies who are nearest. After we get you out of this place of course. You think you can do that?"

She nodded, her eyes still locked on his clear blues. She recognized the sincerity in it.

"Like when I call the SWAT is coming in?" Peter asked, his eyes widening in excitement.

Callen wondered how this boy knew things like that, and why a small smile appeared on his mother's face.

"That would quite a thing, right? But remember it won't be Jim or Hondo coming to save you Pete."

"You know some SWAT agents?" He raised his brows.

It caused a short smile from her. She went through the contents of a small box near where she still sat, then she looked up. "They're just fictional, Mr. Callen. I work with them at SWAT."  
On his questioning look she continued. "The CBS' tv show." She paused as she found the item she looked for and tried on the cardboard of the box if there was any ink in it. As blue circles appeared she handed it to Callen. "I work with the writers and producers of these tv series. Long days… so my dad is around to keep an eye on Peter at schooldays before I get back home. Single parent, you see."

She licked her lips, and it surprised Callen how talkative she was right now, considering the situation they were in. Less emotional than most people would be in a similar situation. Maybe she blocked emotions. Could also be she could be underestimating the situation or she learned to hide pain and fear from the boy.

"Since this is no script that was shared, we don't know what the next step will be," he said. His gaze was all seriousness now. "Peter, what — would you be scared to be on your own for a couple of hours?"

"Wait!" Her voice was sharper now. "What do you mean?"

He moved toward them. By now they were both on their feet now. He motioned to the loft hatch door. "Your boy could go through that one. We take the other door."

"But it's locked."

He nodded. "First things first." Callen reached out for Peter's arm. "Roll up you sleeve, will you? I'll do what most moms dislike Peter." It was something he only heard speaking of. "You know, 'don't let me find you writing on your skin boy'", he spoke in an high voice. "Now listen up, I'm gonna lift you up. I'm pretty sure you can open it. Once you're there, see it you can call this number as soon as soon as possible. Find an old lady, a family... ask them where exactly we are and if you please can use their phone. Call this number. Sam will answer. Tell him you're with Callen and let him know the location. Can you do that?"

Peter simply nodded.

"Then stick as close as you can to the people you trust."

"Uhm… a word please," Rose said.

"Hang in there, buddy," Callen said, trying to sound as optimistically to the kid.

She moved to where he was, glanced at the ceiling, then she turned her gaze back to him and hissed "You're endangering my son. I... I think we should stick together."

He closed his eyes for a brief second. "I know what you mean. But it doesn't have to do with jeopardizing, not at all. I figure you and I won't fit through this entrance. Peter will. It'll be different going through the door one by one."

"I know. But... he's just a kid. What if..."

"What if he **_can_** make a call for help?"

There were the signs he read all too well. The deep sigh, the narrowing of her eyes, how she clenched her jaw and again, the low voice she now used.  
"Whatever. God, how I hate this whole situation. Please do not show any doubts to Peter, will you?"

He gently touched her arm. "I won't. He's a clever young guy you got there."  
He then turned around and asked "You wanna give it a try, Peter? Or wait, your mom will need some of these tattooed numbers too of course."

Callen then took the pen, clicked it on again and said "Where do you want it, Rose?"

She rolled up the sleeve of her vest — one with a trendy leopard print he noticed and indicated a place close to her inner elbow.  
Now that she was this close, he picked up the soft smell of roses. It fit with her. He shouldn't be bothering with anything like this, on the contrary. This was purely a mission, to get both the mother and the child out of this place as soon as possible, getting them into safety.  
He wrote the number on her arm as well. "Remember, Sam. Sam Hanna," Callen repeated.

She'd watched how he had used the pen on her skin. When he took away the pen, she lowered the sleeve and addressed her son again. "Peter, you sure you can do this? I mean, I won't be with you... who are you going to look for?"

"Mom... please."

For a boy of his age, Peter was quite self-assured, Callen thought. He didn't want to come between the mother and her son, but in fact he was all too glad he wasn't dealing with whining or crying people. Both of them were reasonable and calm enough.

"Maybe there'll be people like my teachers. Like you and me, like grandpa. How will I know?"

"You're right Peter, trust your intuition," Callen agreed. "And don't get upset if you can't make a call, if no-one allows you to. Just remember you need to be safe. Both of you."

She tilted her head slightly, was going to make a remark but she didn't. Instead, she hugged and kissed her son and whispered something personal at the boy, something Callen felt he didn't need to hear.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Harbor Gateway Transit center**

Sam stepped out of his Challenger, waited until Eric got out as well. He then closed the doors. "Gear up, Beale," he said.

"What'd you mean?"

Sam chuckled and opened the trunk. "A gun please. And a vest."

Eric stared at the contents of the trunk. "This stuff... you always carry this with you?"

"Yeah. Now, just make your choice Eric. We'd better hurry."

He looked around, scanning the area. This was the address Nell had pinpointed and where Eric had guided him this far. Although he believed this was the place where the GPS signal was found, Sam wasn't all that assured that he'd find Callen in here as well. Not at this location. Not this immobile. Gut feel...

Both of them had their guns at the ready a minute later although there weren't any other people around. Eric bit his lower lip, not sure what to expect. "You think Nell made a mistake, Sam?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Come on Eric. Does she ever?"

He shook his head and heaved a rather shaky sigh. "Maybe I want it this time. What if we find —"

"Stop it, Beale."

Eric literally stopped. "It's in here, Sam. Exactly this place."

A dumpster. Perfect. Only Callen would be the person to tease his partner with the dumpster-thing as he knew how Sam detested them. "Really," he muttered. Nope… No way his partner would be in here, Sam thought. "What if I'm being the one to have your back, Eric. You may open this on my three."

"Shouldn't we wait for a back-up team?" Eric asked nervously.

"Not until we meet with any life threatening creatures or get ourselves into those life threatening situations. Right… Three, two, go!"

Eric frowned, pushed up his glasses a bit better and opened the lid in a slow way. "You were supposed to count the other way around. Like one, two, go, y'know."

"Stay focused, Beale. And be ready to shoot, right?"

"But… but Sam, there's no true danger coming from this one. I mean, there's nothing to attack us whilecoming out of this thing."

"You're bloody right, Beale."  
From where he stood, Sam noticed the familiar shine of a badge. He shook his head. "This is all G's, Eric. His badge, his jacket, his wallet… All used to make us think we were following our man. Instead, we followed someone who dumped his stuff in here. Dammit Eric," Sam yelled as he hit the container in frustration.

Eric was silent for a few seconds, wondering if whatever he was saying at this moment might anger the large senior agent even more.  
"They did this on purpose."

"You bet they did. And you bet that the moment your partner at the office is going to check, there won't be any camera's running in here. We literally have nothing, nothing at all, to work with." Again, he hit the dumpster. Not that it worked. He then tapped and connected to the office.  
"Nell, anything new?"

 _-"Nothing, Sam."_ There was a short pause before Nell spoke again. " _Suppose it was a dead end?"_

He nodded. "We've got Callen's stuff in here. Someone obviously understood we would follow that trail, and stall us that way." He sighed heavily. "How about Kensi and Deeks?"

 _-"Uhm… they're going to land in 10 minutes. Add to that the drive and the paperwork. Suppose we won't hear from them in the next 45 minutes._ "

"Thanks anyway Nell. We're on our way back, but keep us informed in case anything pops up in your systems in the meantime, will'ya?"

 _-"Sure, as ever Sam."_

He hummed as he disconnected, looked around and shook his head. "Just get his stuff out of there Eric. There should be a phone as well."

"Already got that. I'll take it with us and check it. You just drive, Sam."

It was all he could do. But time was ticking and he — they, he corrected himself — never got any further when it came to finding his partner. Sam remembered he agreed with the simple orders his partner were given. Sure, there was the stubbornness of Callen too as he wanted to convince who-ever was behind this, that Callen didn't know the woman and her son. Sure, it all sounded easy, until Callen mentioned the probability of Janvier being involved. Kensi had confirmed it.  
"What do you figure, Eric, should we get back with Nell or head off to Callen's former neighbor?"

The younger man shrugged. "Veteran Avenue is closer. 'En route', so to say. If there's anything new, Nell will tell. Still…" Eric shot a sideward glance and decided it was okay to go on "Still, I don't think there's anything this Elise can tell us."

Sam slowly nodded in agreement. So far, it was a dead end indeed. They were dealing with an enemy who knew what they were doing before they knew it themselves… But all they could do was moving on.

* * *

 _As ever, thanks a lot for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Moving on**

* * *

A/N From now on there will be quite a lot going on. But hey, perhaps it was to be expected? After all, it was going to be a SHORT story. That is what I thought beforehand… Things can change, right?  
Keep enjoying the read please and let me know if it is readable at all… Because somehow it seems as if there less people following, reading and reviewing. So, this is a shout-out to anyone reading: just give me that simple help and just tell!

Kni®benrots

* * *

Disclaimer: anyone reading should realize by now that there's no way I own any character of NCIS LA. I just use them and thank CBS and Shane Brennan for creating this incredible team!

* * *

 _~ They were dealing with an enemy who knew what they were doing before they knew it themselves… But all they could do was moving on ~_

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || Sam's car

Sam drove his Challenger through the LA streets while he simply followed the instructions of his younger and temporary co-worker. Meanwhile he let his thoughts go over every single bit of information they had so far. After another few miles of silence he simply slammed the steering wheel. "Dammit Eric… Is it that you and I are too sloppy after this long day?"  
He accelerated and overtook some cars, simply because he wished he could gain time, not really knowing why or how those few seconds would make a real difference at all.

"Well, technically I'm just a technical operator of course. But…" Eric paused a bit too. "Well, to me it seems that someone wanted to cut the ties of Callen and the team. Flush him out. One is easier to handle than four, or six. Maybe they know what to expect from Callen, but also from us."

"Win time, you mean?"

Eric hummed a confirmation. "Don't ask me for what exactly, but yeah."

Sam shook his head. It could mean everything and nothing at the very same time. He let Eric's word sink in. "If it's Janvier, well, the creep knows better than anyone how to get under our skin. He knows how we work." He sighed deeply and was about to continue when his phone rang.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

Callen had instructed Peter to close the panel once he got on the solid ground of the upper level compartment, but not until he'd wished the young boy good luck.

He observed the mother of the boy, whose real temper now showed. All he wanted was to move swiftly to the next step.  
"Say, Rose?"

She looked up by his calm but demanding voice.

Now that Callen had her attention he said "Peter will be okay, Rose, he will. Now it's your turn. So, I'm going to open this door and what I want you to do is go and hurry as soon as you can to the passenger compartment too. From these illustrations, it's through the wet area and changing rooms, straight to the first set of seats. With a little luck, you can find Peter as he will be on the upper compartment."

"You mentioned that before. Sounds so easy but I told you before, that door's locked."

"I know." He looked up from his position — working the lock patiently with the set of hairpins he always kept clipped on his jeans. Hell, the laundromats which complained about his stuff were several already.  
"Still," he continued "I'm pretty sure I can open it so what I want you to do is hurry out of here the moment you can."

"Why? I mean… why you keep saying that? Where will you be?"

"Right next to you." Clear enough. She needed to know she wasn't on her own. "Oh, and Rose? This section is the one those guys will keep an eye on. So it'll be… more challenging."

This time he saw how her eyes widened and she swallowed. Well, he couldn't make it more attracting for them to try and get away. Callen knew he unlocked the shallow door already. "Listen… I want to go through those boxes once again to try and find something that would work as a weapon. This pen, for example, will do nicely."

"You expect there will be knives and guns in there?"

It sounded just as insulting as Callen knew she meant. For someone he didn't know and who wasn't in the same line of work that he was, he understood and he tried to be as patient as he could. "Wire, a soda glass or even a hard-cover novel, things like that would help me."

She shrugged and sat down in a way that showed her reluctance.  
It took only a few minutes for him to go through the contents of the boxes and he knew he had to hurry since he had the feeling time was ticking faster than he wanted. All he found, next to the pen he already had, was a used faucet. It should do.  
"Rose," he called. "Are you ready to go?"

This time she slowly nodded, got up on her feet and he felt like instructing her only a bit more. "You told me there were four men, right?"  
She nodded again and he continued "If we will meet any of them, I figure you would recognize them as well. And if so… well, if they come after us or will meet us, what I want you to do is run away as fast as you can. I'll see if I can deal with them."

There was a shaky breathe. "I can meet Peter?"

Callen tried to smile as confident as possible. "You can. There's the upper floor where he should be. Get there too as soon as you can, and once you find him, cross this one compartment and get as far away as you two can."

She nodded and now they were this close to the next move, Callen closed his eyes for a brief second. He was ready too.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

They managed to pass by two changing rooms. If he'd spent less time finding some gear, indeed they'd won just the time that was needed to get away unseen.  
Now Callen knew he'd have to use all he had to fight those two muscled men who came in their direction. In a cramped room like this he figured they weren't going to use any guns. But there'd be fists or perhaps other weapons. And those two guys certainly didn't expect them to be in here, so the odds were even.  
Callen swung his right arm in which he held the faucet straight into the torso of the man who was closest to him. It made the guy stumble backwards, and for the briefest of time there was a small pass.  
"Go Rose!" he yelled.

He dodged when a first fist came his way and he now aimed higher. He hit the front man's face and heard a bone crack while blood spattered around. She still was behind him, not moving at all and he yelled again "Now, Rose!"

He shouldn't have been distracted, not now and not by her.  
New steps came their way and an older lady who entered the wet area started screaming as she spun on her feet, shut the door slammed and left the place. Then the third guy was there, definitely blocking the exit.

The temporary and unusual weapon was slammed from his arm with a force Callen didn't expect and he was knocked against one of the doors. The pain in his torso made him want to curl up for a moment, but he needed to stay on his feet and keep fighting, for the slightest chance that she could get away from this place.

Another fist hit him, and there were more blows coming than he could return or handle. There was blood running from his brow, blurring his view. The attack from two pairs of fists on his body made him nearly going down.

Then there was the sharp intake of breath behind him and a soft spoken 'a knife'. He registered it without being able to avoid the single stab that hit him. Just enough to make him give up this fight for a few seconds too long.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Sam's car**

Sam tapped the 'accept' button on his dashboard and simply introduced himself: "Yeah?" The number that appeared was unknown to him.

It was silent for a couple of seconds until he and Eric heard a soft spoken _-"Are you Sam?"_

Sam replied "Yes, this is Sam Hanna speaking."

Another short pause. _-"Your friend says you could come and save us."_

He steered the car to the right lane and slowed down a bit. "My friend?"

 _-"Callen."_

Sam glanced at Eric and raised his brows.  
"Peter," Eric mouthed.

"Peter?" Sam said. "Where are you? You okay?"

There were some rustling sounds and another person replied _-"Are you the boy's father?"_

He replied "No ma'am. I'm... a friend of the family. Is Peter alright?"

 _-"Yes he is. Told us his mother isn't though. So he wants you to meet them and get them out of here."_

"Where are you? Who are you?"

 _-"Linda, Linda Watson, Sir. And we're heading to San Francisco."_

"This is special agent Sam Hanna speaking, by the way. From what I hear it sounds as if you're in a train."

 _-"That's correct. We're on the Coast Starlight Train. All in all it's a lovely journey with the most beautiful views. Now, this young man asked me to use my phone to make a call. And I must say, Mr. Hanna, that I am quite worried about what this boy just told me."_

"Well I understand that you're worried, but please try not to show it to anyone around you, for the sake of your safety but especially for that of the boy and his mother. Could you please keep an eye on the boy?"  
He heard a confirming hum and continued "Uhm, ma'am can I speak with Peter just another short moment?"  
Sam shot another glance at Eric, who had his tablet on his lap and tapped on the screen, enlarging the item and nodding to himself. Then, there was Peter's voice again.

 _-"Will you be here soon, Sam?"_

He tried to make his voice smile since he knew it would sound more convincing to anyone listening. "Peter, I will be there as soon as I can, and I will take some policemen with me. But you have to understand that you are far from me, quite a bit further than you and I feel happy about. Right now I am in the middle of Los Angeles, and you—" He switched his gaze to Eric's screen and quickly saw "You just passed Santa Maria. I think it will be about 3 hours and a bit, Peter. But we will hurry. Anf Peter, you just stay close with the lady that I just spoke with."  
That should be clear enough, Sam hoped.

 _-"The police? I hoped… No SWAT?"_

"What? Well yes, Peter. I will ask a SWAT team to assist me."

 _-"They can save us. I know, Mr. Sam."_

"Then I will get them around and I will assist them, Peter. I need to call them now, so I will disconnect this call, right? You can call me again if anything changes, you understand? Ask the lady. She will help you too."  
He waited for another hum and pressed the red button on the display. He simply didn't have to ask Eric - he knew the younger man already was working through routes and schemes and he would ask Nell to assist them.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

Callen knew escaping was out of the question from now on. They were kind of forced back into the same space they escaped from and from what he gathered the place was now guarded too.  
He gladly sank down to a seated position and closed his eyes. The 'chuga-chuga' cadence of the train on its railroad pounded through his entire body and unwillingly he let out a groan.

"You're... bleeding." Her breathing was fast.

"I know," he grunted as he let his hand go over his eye to wiped away some blood.

Again, she inhaled deeply and shakily. "My God. You could've died. They... a knife. And you —" She swallowed. "This was... when I'm working things are so different."

She'd been paralyzed. Something he hadn't been prepared of and he blamed himself for that. Any civilian could and might have acted like she did, but Callen figured her drive to reach her son as possible would've been strong enough. But it wasn't …

"Real life, Rose. Wished... I really wanted to avoid this. But I've had worse." His hand now went over his left shoulder. "This is just a graze, no need to panic."

She didn't respond and he didn't want to prod. Instead he let his thoughts go over the why, where and who…

* * *

 _As ever, thank you for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **Moving on**

* * *

 **A/N As ever, I want to thank you for reading and for being so kind to leave your review on this story. Really, I appreciate all of your responses! For me, the prison rules in the US are completely unknown. I therefor gratefully used an article dating from 2015, called 'What's life like in Supermax prison?', written by Ray Sanchez and Alexandra Field, CNN.**

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS and by Shane Brennan, the same characters R. Scott Gemmill should've explored better by now? I don't own or claim to own the characters who belong to the original tv show, but love to use them for this writing nevertheless.

* * *

"Moving on is easy. It's staying moved on that's trickier."  
― Katerina Stoykova Klemer

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

Things had gotten out of control. And Callen knew it was something he would've been able to handle. He could have won such a fight. But never when there were other people around who might get in danger. Or like now. He was too distracted by the fact that Rose wasn't doing what he hoped she would do — run as fast as she could.  
He heaved another deep sigh which made her look up at him again, her eyes now teary he noticed.

"Will Peter be safe?" she asked.

He hummed. "I think so. He would've been on here with us by now if he were found. Don't think they're after him right now."  
There were some sniffing sounds and since she turned her head around and facing away from him, Callen realized she was crying, or at least holding back her tears.

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

"No-one knows beforehand how to act when being in a dangerous situation. Not even officers, not until their very first time response to violence. No, I don't think you screwed up, Rose. You and I both know you intended to get away," he carefully chose his words.

Now she really started to cry, but in a silent way. He heard her sobs and wondered if he needed to comfort her in some way. He normally wasn't the person to offer a shoulder to cry on; during every day's situations it was Sam who probably was more like a strong and safe papa-bear people firstly approached. Not him. It might be because of him - perhaps other people noticed how he preferred to watch the person first to be able to read them, something which mostly was taken as being distrusting or standoffish.

Callen quietly waited until her breathing finally became calmer.  
"Thing is, I'm not sure what their next step will be. All I know is that it's me they want to punish, but I don't know how. Or when and where."

"But why?"

With a groan, he slowly got up, his body sore. He let his hands go over the parts that hurt most, knowing these men never were after him to get seriously wounded or worse, get killed on action. The stabbing wound didn'd bleed any longer.  
"Let's say I have a lot of enemies because of my job."  
Callen paced around in the room for a while, the sound of the train on the railway pounding harder and harder in his opinion, causing a headache which made him sit down again. He closed his eyes and tried to find as much rest as possible.

After a long silence she asked "How does your family deal with that? I mean..."

Why couldn't he come up with a quick reply? His family… There was his father, who fought his own demons and he didn't really know is he was alive or not. Then there were Alex and Jake — both cut from his life. His mother and sister — both dead. In fact, it was more or less pathetic, he realized. Callen shook his head. "There… they know."  
Perhaps he owed her a better explanation but at the moment, he needed his head clearer and trying to let different scenarios pass his thoughts.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

Without Eric next to her, Nell profited from the silence at Ops. She had three screens to watch, all open with different information. By now she knew that Deeks and Kensi arrived at the United States Penitentiary in Florence, and Nell sent a formal request to find about Janvier's outgoing and incoming calls. A short beep told her that a NCIS officer was identified in Colorado, so she should tell the other co-workers too.  
Also, she could stick her nose into Janvier's financials. Meanwhile she checked the inmates who'd been in with Janvier but found a different place, either in the normal society or in a different place.

She also kept a track on the train which was still on the move. Then she tilted her head only slightly and bit her lower lip. Then, she pushed the speed dial on the phone next to her.

Only a short moment after, Sam answered. _-"Nell, what you have?"_

"Hey guys. Just wanted you to know that Deeks and Kensi arrived in Florence."

 _-"That's all_?" It was Eric's voice now coming through.

"Not really, there's more," she said. "Actually, it is about the time that is left before you'll reach that train. You see, you did make the right calculation Eric, but what you forgot was that the train is moving slower, much slower than Sam can drive that car of him. Nevertheless, I suppose you want to be even faster than allowed. I did warn the authorities that you might want some assistance."

 _-"Great,"_ Eric said and as he glanced at Sam he continued _"Great, 'cause I don't think it's possible to go through that train just the two of us. We'd proborably need a whole army."_

"If you insist…" she let out a nervous giggle. "Fun thing is I did ask for their assistance indeed. Now, you hurry, or make Sam hurry. He's listening, right?"

 _-"Of course I am."_ His darker voice sounded.

"So, I dropped your license plate at the police stations. You won't be bothered with speed tickets or too many red lights. Take care guys."  
Nell disconnected and heaved a deep sigh. She was so used to having her partner next to her and share the outcomes of any analyzes or searches errands popping up. Not now. Right now, it was more like being in the dark and she knew all she could do was to keep connected to both couples of team members. And wait…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **US Supermax Federal Prison || Florence, Colorado**

"Be ready to meet the worst of the worst, baby," Deeks smiled at his partner. Both of them waited within the first fences and still outside the walls of the squat built complex. He looked up and let his gaze go over the dozen of imposing gun towers that rose above the brick walls. Through the fences, he saw how heavily armed patrols cruised the compound. He turned around and admired the mountains, something he knew that was blocked from the inmates.

Kensi shook her head. "No way we're going to meet them, Deeks. From what I understand is that anyone who came in here, through these doors, face supermax. Long term, and many of the inmates spend about 23 hours a day alone in a concrete cell. They won't meet each other, won't have any direct contact with anyone at all. And we won't meet with them either".

"Then tell me once again why we're here, while we're waiting."

She flashed him a smile. "You know that. And mind you, I don't particularly look forward to meet Janvier. If by any chance we can avoid it, I wouldn't mind at all."  
Kensi opened the window on her side, showed the guard her ID and mentioned "We're here to see Martin Rivera."

It took another few minutes before the guard verified the appointment. "Please continue your drive until you pass the second and third gate, then follow the instructions of the officer in there."

"Thank you," Kensi replied. The officer saluted them and probably pressed a button as the gate opened with a warning alarm. This was repeated twice and they finally put the car into a halt next to other private cars.

"Special agents Blye and Deeks?" A young officer approached them.

Kensi nodded while Deeks shook his head and said "Detective Deeks. LAPD. Not that it matters, but just saying."

The officer blushed. "So sorry for the mistake, Sir."

"Never mind."

"Right," Kensi interrupted. "Officer Lawrence… I suppose you're here to accompany us to the person we're here to meet."

"That's right, Sir — Ma'am."

Again, she shook her head but she found it useless to correct the young man. Instead, she just motioned Deeks that he should keep silent too. They followed the officer into the second building where he explained "Superintendent Mr. Rivera will be here any time soon to meet you."  
With a small nod and a military greet he turned around and left Kensi and Deeks in a small waiting area.

"Did you know, Kens, that most guys in here have to wear leg irons and handcuffs when they're taken outside of the cells? And that the stress level of many inmates reaches to the point of being paranoid? Or worse, being encaged makes them even more aggressive than the moment when they were admitted to this place?" Deeks kept firing facts and questions at her.

She faced her partner and sent him a short smile. "Any chance I need to know these things? I mean… we're facing people in the street every single day with exactly the same characteristics and even worse, they'll be armed and dangerous instead of being cuffed and locked away." Despite all, she looked around. Was it the prison itself which gave her the creeps or was it more because she knew who they came to see if anything else failed?

Only a couple of minutes later, another man entered. He smiled politely at the two people who sat there, waiting for him and getting on their feet automatically. "Detective Deeks, agent Blye, what can I do for you?" He extended his right arm to shake hands with Kensi first, and once she accepted he introduced himself "Martin Rivera, warden of this place."

Oddly enough, he reminded Kensi of their temporary boss, deputy director Ochoa.

"Please, follow me and let's discuss your business in a private room while we're having a cup of coffee."  
Both followed him to a small office which was just around the corner of the corridor. Once Kensi and Deeks sat down, Rivera poured them a cup of coffee. "There's milk in a stick and sugar cubes," he motioned to an additional bowl on his desk. While he took some sips from his own hot coffee, he sat down and opened the drawer of his desk.

"So, these are the phone logs," he said. "Actually, I studied them myself as well after your agency sent the first request. There's a number in Europe that pops up most."

"His daughter, Adeline," Deeks suggested.

"Could be," Rivera nodded. "In here I don't have the possibility to trace numbers. You may want to take this." He handed the paper to Deeks.

"Any chance we can get the digitalized list sent to our people in LA?" Kensi asked.

"Of course, no problem. Now I know you're serious about the situation." The man pressed the code to unlock his computer as he still addressed Kensi and Deeks. He continued "You're pretty worried about mister Janvier. It surprised us though."

"How's that?" Kensi leaned forward. She let her hand go through her dark hair.

Rivera sent her a smile. "The man's a perfect inmate. Despite the fact our inmates are not allowed to contact each other, we do observe the interaction between inmates and the staff. Same goes for his immediate family and the legal team, who are allowed to visit." He paused for a moment, went through his drawer again and shook his head. "How do I get the files forwarded to you?"

"No problem," Kensi said. She took her phone and a cable. "You allow me to plug this in and have it transferred?"

The warden nodded and watched closely what she was doing.

"As you were saying, the inmate is disciplined and respected in here?" Deeks wanted to know.

Rivera nodded again and added "That's what I said. Next to that, his mail and conversations are always monitored and he isn't yet allowed to move into a prison job or move into the general population."

"So you do have lists of people he can talk to, or who he actually saw in here?"

"I do, detective Deeks. In fact we share those with the Justice Department. And in case the agency that investigated and prosecuted the inmate is interested, we share with them too. So, agent Blye, you are allowed to transfer the following list as well." He took the mouse, moved it over some file names and a digital file opened.

Kensi smiled and texted Nell in the meantime. "Did anything stand out for as far as you know?" she then asked.

"Not really," Rivera shook his head. "There's a very strict limit to all communications with the outside world and the list is shorter than a standard sheet of paper."

Deeks swallowed the last bit of his coffee, put the cup back on its saucer and was silent for a short minute. Then he leaned his elbows on the desk, frowned and said "Legal conversation and correspondence with attorneys are private and privileged, right?"

"Deeks… What are you suggesting?" Kensi exclaimed.

"Just that… well, for anyone as well-trained as Janvier, he sure knows how to show the right amount of discipline and civility. Which means he may have planned something along the way and we'll not read it in the files you just sent to Nell."  
Deeks straightened his shoulders and continued "Perhaps it's best to discuss this matter with Janvier himself."

Somehow, the remark sent shivers to his partner. Because somehow she felt that whatever Janvier was planning, he would never show them what that was.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

It had been over 10 minutes without a spoken word. Callen had closed his eyes to try and block his headache and concentrate on any next step.  
The simple fact that the little boy wasn't brought back in here made him hope at least one of the family of two was safe. Hope, but it wasn't confirmed yet. Through his lashes he observed the mother of the boy. The moment she agreed to get her son into safety was the same moment he knew he could trust her. He also knew she felt guilty for the fact that both of them hadn't escaped when the possibility had been there.  
In his line of work however, Callen expected they would've been hunted throughout this train which could have put other people in danger, and he would have surrendered anyway. With her in here, things weren't how he wanted it to be. Like he recognized with her, he also felt guilty and the worry something might happen to her, or to the boy, made him wonder which decision was the right one.

Also, he couldn't figure out why on earth they were put in a train on it's way to San Francisco. If it was Janvier who was after him or this family he may or may not presume was his, why there, why here and why now? Somehow, he couldn't put a finger on this whole situation. He breathed in deep and felt like letting the air escape in a loud sigh, but it was hers he heard.

"Will they still be... be here?" She finally asked.

"I suppose so."

They were silent again. She then softly concluded "So I guess it's too late to get away. I'm so sorry…"

He shook his head. "You don't have to. This is not your fault."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_

Kni®benrots


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Moving on**

* * *

A/N As ever, I want to thank those who read the previous chapter(s) and who took the time to leave a review. And since I am not too sure if I thanked all of you personally who reviewed the previous chapter(s), this is the moment and place to do so: thanks a lot!

It took a while to upload because of a short roadtrip I made, but I don't think there's anyone noticing ?

As ever, enjoy the read and feel free to review!

Kni®benrots

* * *

 ** _~ Take what you learned and move on ~ Neil Gaiman_**

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

The lists Kensi sent her way weren't showing anything which made Nell even curious at all. Although she wasn't around and never heard Rivera's words which he said when talking to Kensi and Deeks, the man had said the right thing.  
Kensi had already app-ed her that there were probably no revelations in the files.  
From the phone calls to the real visits and the reports that were made, nothing stood out. It made Nell doubt whether they were looking in the right direction at all. With Callen's past you never knew.

Now if only she had anyone near here to share her thoughts. Nell was aware that the sharpest one she could think of was Callen himself. She stared at her screens without really noticing the intel that was on it.  
Then she looked at the time. She'd been working on her own for nearly two hours now. Hours during which Eric and Sam were driving up North, Kensi and Deeks had flown to Colorado and Callen, well...  
From somewhere, deep down, a memory popped up and she remembered the words Granger once spoke _'Fear those who have nothing left to lose'_ and suddenly she made a decision. One she would share afterwards with director Vance in Washington. But not before she contacted Sam and Eric again.

She called and didn't wait for him to reply "Sam? I'm going to have that train stopped. It'll take you about a short 20 minutes to be there. Same goes for the SWAT's coming from the other direction."

 _-"You sure you can handle that Nell?"_ his voice came through, warm as ever.

She hummed as a positive reply and asked "Does anyone of you know from which carriage the boy called?"

This time she heard Eric's voice.  
 _-"Too bad we didn't ask, but wow, sharp thinking partner. We need to get him on the phone again."_

"You want me to take care of that?"

 _-"That would come in handy. If you do make that call, there's a woman who will answer that phone, Linda Watson. Ask her where she is and if the boy knows where he came from. I guess that is where Callen will be. Peter, the boy, knows Sam is a special agent, so just introduce yourself as a co-worker of Sam and Callen."_

Nell hummed "Will do so. Twenty minus five, guys. You hurry." She didn't add that she also managed to have EMT's in there, following the SWAT's.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

Rose Cruelly was back on her feet, trying to estimate the time her son had left to escape. If anyone was looking for him just to take him back in here, they should have returned quite some time ago, she figured.

At this moment she didn't think this man who said he was a special agent would be of any help.  
She let her gaze go over him. Neat features, with exactly the right amount of sturdiness if it were up to her, especially with the five 'o clock shadow he showed right now. And she did notice the 'do not touch', the obvious distance he shows.

His eyes were closed and his breathing was even. There was dried blood from his brow and his nose, the most obvious parts which were hurt while he tried to fight three man, just to let her get away like he planned and discussed with her.  
On the light blue sweater he wore there were more stains which she knew it was blood. From when he wiped his hands where his knuckles were scraped from that same short fight, or from wiping blood from his own face, she didn't know. Then she remembered how one of the men used a knife to make him surrender. Now here they were. She tried to swallow away all her fears and sorrow and looked away when he started to talk, though he still kept his eyes closed.

"There's nothing we can do right now but wait, Rose. And it's not wrong to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." The breath she let out was shaky enough to prove the opposite of those words and he didn't blame her, nor did he want to push her. Instead, he seemed to read her thoughts.

"I think you did the right thing to let Peter go. He's a smart-ass, bet he found himself a place to hide or to blend in. They won't go and look for him."

"What do you think will happen next?"

Callen shrugged and chose his words carefully like he did all the time, Rose knew. This was different from a television show where scenes were rehearsed many times, and where for the sake of the weekly 45 minutes on air. The actors waited until the other was done talking, and when they made a mistake, the scene was repeated. There wasn't a script they were following since this wasn't tv, but really happening to her and scarier than she dared to admit.

"They'll come in, sooner or later. And to be honest with you, I don't have a clue, but they won't play nice. No way. So you've got every right to be scared. I am."

"You are?"

He opened his eyes when he heard the disbelief in her voice and he nodded.

"But… You're an agent. Like— "

"Like who, like James Bond? Like the ones in your tv-show? There's no way you should compare my life, our lives, with anyone you've seen on a screen or read about in a book, Rose. Yes, I know fear. Without it, without being afraid, you make mistakes. I've learned the hard way when I was young. Fear helped me to move on and make the right decisions."  
What he didn't add was the fear he felt for her. When it came to facing evil, he figured that by now he knew what he could handle. But when it came to having to face Janvier, it came to be a blank canvas. All he knew was that the man was obsessed with him.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **US Supermax Federal Prison || Florence, Colorado**

In Rivera's office, the three of them fell silent. Then Kensi asked "Is there nothing at all which is worth knowing or worth trying to find out about your inmate Janvier?"

Rivera leaned back in his desk chair, raised his arms and stretched them behind his head, then lowered them to let the back of his head rest in his hands.  
"Well then, he's a loner." He chuckled to himself and added "Aren't they all? Umh… well, I heard he tends to read a lot. And I know that he likes to play chess."

"Ah, we remember that, don't we?" Deeks made eye contact with his partner. Even he was aware how Janvier used to play games with Callen, who knew the rules of the game. Deeks himself was okay with an amateur game, but not to the level Callen played chess.

Kensi smiled since she also remembered. "Chess as a single player, I assume?" She went on "We were discussing his legal advisor. Do we know who his lawyer is, I mean, is there any chance we can contact him or her?"  
This time, she glanced at Deeks. She didn't know if he really saw how any lawyer could be the one who was involved in this matter.

Rivera stretched his arms again and once he was done, he got up, checked one of the drawers of his desk and took a small key. With that item he opened the chest of deep file drawers and let his fingers go through the middle one until he found the paper file he was looking for. Once he had it, he took the file and put it on his desk, sat down and went through the paperwork.  
He drummed with the fingers of his left fingers on his desk and finally said "Marianne Banners. She was sent after Walter Vandebeek resigned from the case to defend the accused." He read what was written on the next page and continued "None of them have been around for the past year though," he said. "Do you need to contact their offices too?"

Kensi glanced at Deeks and she read it in his eyes. She shook her head. "No, I don't think that'll be necessary."  
She got slightly nervous now as she didn't particularly look forward to the moment which came nearer — a face to face meeting with Janvier.  
"We, uhm, would the next step be to have a discussion with Janvier himself?"

Rivera got on his feet again and made two large steps to the small table in the corner where the coffee machine was. He checked and turned to his guests and offered another cup of coffee. Although Kensi and Deeks both refused he poured one himself. He leaned against his desk with the small mug in his hands and said "Marcel Janvier's cell block is on another section. I'd have to ask one of the supervising officers to accompany you. Unfortunately I can't come with you. But we can take a short peek from here," he said as he smiled politely. He blew over his coffee in an effort to cool it so he could drink it and he motioned to come and join him to watch his screen. "Parker Jacobs is in charge in there. I could ask him to show the camera feed of Janvier's cell."

"You're saying every prisoner's being watched?" Kensi asked.

"Could've told you," Deeks muttered, knowing both of them would ignore his remark. Still, he gave his fiancée a half smile.

"Every now and then. Basically to show the inmates why they're in a super-max facility. To let them know we're in charge," Rivera addressed Kensi but glancing to Deeks afterwards. Both nodded.  
Rivera went on and showed them the outlines of the plot on screen. "This is no secret, not to the people in Fremont county nor to the rest of the world," he shrugged, "As you may know this is only the administration area, where we are right now. Then there's a special part for personnel only, and those triangle shaped blocks we have in here. Each of them with a supervising officer. As I said, Parker Jacobs is in charge of one of them. His block houses 206 inmates right now in his part of the facility, all who are in the 4 to 6 security level. His part has over 650 remote-controlled steel doors and all 206 cells which are occupied are monitored, like I just said."

Rivera paused a second to finish his coffee, put the mug on his desk and took his desk phone. After he pressed a number he waited silently during the first and second buzz Deeks and Kensi could hear. Then it was answered and Rivera smiled at his guests. "Jacobs? I've got two guests in here. Interested in Marcel Janvier. Cell 187." Another short pause during which he just nodded. "We'll wait."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

If this was about revenge, what, when and how was Janvier planning? His pounding headache sure didn't help. They remained silent for minutes, each caught up with their own thoughts.

Then the small door was opened and three of the bearded men entered. The one whose nose he broke wasn't with them but Callen had no doubt he was around as well.

He wanted to get up, but the one who was in the lead shook his head. "You'd better stay where you are, or we'll hurt your lady."

He'd hoped Rose kept silent but while she seemed to seek protection near him she said "I'm not his lady."

Although Callen saw these men before he only now he noticed the small and rudimentary tattoos on the largest man's face. Three small points near his eyes and something that was partly hidden behind the short beard, a double lightning sign. White supremacists. Those tattoos probably were made in jail.

"You stay down," the man repeated. The second man approached Rose who still was on her feet as close to Callen as she dared.

"Stay away from her," Callen snapped.

The other guy glanced at him and said "Or else?"

Callen scissored his legs, hooking the ankle which made the man stumble and fall. There was no way he was able to fight the three bearded men again, not in this condition, and not while he was still down on the floor. All he could do was try and avoid being kicked. It didn't really work out best and one of those kicks, high on his left side, hurt more than he was used to.

He gasped in pain and it made him want to double in pain and stay right where he was. When he finally managed to breath normally, the leader of these men grinned.

He took a phone from his pocket, pressed a code and a number and held it in front of Callen.

He'd known it all the time and still it was a moment he never expected. There was no way to escape the evil grin from the man he hadn't seen in the past few years.

"Surprise, surprise, agent Callen."

He didn't have to reply. Didn't want to. For a short few seconds he stared at the small screen of this cell phone, straight into the piercing pale and milky blue eyes of the man he never wanted to see again. Janvier's hair was completely white by now and thinner than he recalled.  
How the man had managed to get hold of a cell phone was a mystery to Callen but one he couldn't solve.  
When Callen finally looked away, Janvier started to talk again.

"Do you have any clue how boring days are in here, my friend?"

"Never was your friend," Callen snapped. He regretted this remark immediately and wondered how Janvier did this, getting under his skin in matters of moments. He continued "Besides, be prepared to more boredom. Remember the triple life sentence?"

The was a hollow chuckle from the other side. "We're dead in here even while we're still alive. The life I live in here has nothing to offer me, except for the hope to die soon. But you know me well enough. Instead of burying myself in this place there is a quicker way out."

Callen let his gaze go over the screen of the phone again. He was all too aware that Janvier was doing exactly the same.

"Oh, I can tell you are curious agent Callen. This is just like the old days, remember? I know you always loved to play a game of chess." Janvier clucked his tongue and continued "Remember you once mentioned 'check-mate'? Well, it was far from that, because you obviously didn't take the third player into account. I met Vaziri, thanks to you. And thanks to you this all became a game of suicide chess. With no check. Where the King is captured like any ordinary piece. Or should we call it 'End-game chess? I see you met my pawns already. End-game to you, suicide-chess for me, perhaps. Surprise, surprise, agent Callen."

And he still didn't know what to expect…


	11. Chapter 11

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 11**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: To the readers: did you know that G. Callen is fictional? I tend to forget that detail every now and then. So, I'm still glad he decided to play along, as has his team. After this story is finished, I agreed to send him back to the place which was created by Shane Brennan and which belongs to CBS.**

* * *

A/N Once again I simply say thank you, readers, followers, reviewers. I truly feel grateful for your support. Be sure to enjoy this chapter as well. True – some delay in updating again, this time because of all kinds of family business.

* * *

Move on, stop worrying where you're going,

move on!

If you can know where you're going, you've gone

just keep moving on.

I chose and my world was shaken,

so what?

The choice was mistaken

The choosing was not.

You keep moving on

 _-Stephen Sondheim-_

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **US Supermax Federal Prison || Florence, Colorado**

"Is it alright to put you on speaker while we wait, Jacobs?" the warden asked. The reply must've been positive, because after Martin Rivera next asked "What can you let our visitors know about inmate 187, also known as Janvier?"

"187… The Frenchman. Well, so far Janvier is known for his behavior," Jacobs mentioned.

Deeks let his hand go through his too long hair. "Bad or good?"

"Good," Jacobs said with a positive touch in his voice. "In fact, as good as could be. The Frenchman was allowed a tv-set which he refused."

"I know another guy who doesn't want one," Deeks muttered.  
Then, more specific and with a broad smile for Kensi, he said "So, how does Janvier kill his time?"

Rivera glanced at his guest at this remark, but replied immediately after that. "As I mentioned before, he likes to play chess and reads a lot, am I correct?"

"That's correct," Parker Jacobs confirmed. "And as your guests may already know, all the prisoners are in complete isolation. Which means this is all he can do, next to be able to write."

"Write?" Kensi asked.

"That's right. Each inmates is entitled to use ten loose folds of paper and a fine liner a week. To be more specific, fine liners with a rather soft barrel. Some prisoners use them for drawing and some are developing in pretty good artists. Others, like inmate 187, write. Stories, memoires, whatever. For those who are being transferred to another level of detention, we check them. If innocent enough, they can keep them."

"Okay… We get it," Kensi said.

Rivera now interrupted. "So, Jacobs, how about getting the footage for cell 187 sent our way too?"

Parker Jacobs hummed. "On that. I was just heading to Reyes, our monitor man."  
They heard how he moved from his seat to another room and there was some stumbling around at first. Then Jacobs voice was back on the speaker. "You still can hear me, right?"

Rivera confirmed "We can, Jacobs."

"Goes for Reyes too?"

"Hi boss. Hi there."

"Reyes," Rivera greeted.

"Right guys. From what I understand you need ears or eyes to cell number 178?"

"187," Deeks corrected.

"Oooh-kay," the other man said.

From their place, they could hear how several buttons were pressed. The system was all digital, of course. It was all completely quiet for a few seconds, and the three in Martin Rivera's office were waiting until footage would show up on the screen. After the silence there were some muttering voices coming through.

"Jacobs?" Rivera asked.

"One moment, Sir."

Finally, Reyes' voice came through. "Nothing, Jacobs."

A curse was heard followed by "Decker on duty?" and "Get him on the line, now!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

"Now then, agent Callen."

The Frenchman's voice sounded polite and perhaps also slightly hypnotizing. But it might be because Callen had a tremendous headache.

"What?" Callen snapped.

"Tut-tut-tut," Janvier hushed. "I figured you and I could have a decent conversation like in the old days."

Rose stared at the situation. She was still in a standing position near to him and with one of the men close to her. Two more bearded men, carefully looking down at him, sitting, and who were never letting their guard down.

Until this live-chat on someone else's phone Callen had been calm. Reasonable too, she thought. He'd managed to take away some of her tension as well and managed to defend her. Right now there were flashes of anger in his eyes. She was pretty sure that who-ever he was forced to talk to, must have shared a history with him which wasn't good. There were many times he tried to resist watching the small screen but he was attracted to it anyway.

"You knew this moment would come, didn't you?" The French man's voice sounded.

Callen didn't answer. Didn't have to. He knew he could look blank. Knew that no matter what, Janvier would have planned everything quite some time ago. Why, Callen asked himself by now, why hadn't he taken care of a plan B?

"Agent Callen... just help me out a little. You see how I have three pawns on your side already, which means I've probably lost one too. But never mind, whereas I still am able to avoid any attacks of your bishops or rooks it seems you forgot to move your Queen."

To hell with those chess terms. Callen really felt annoyed by the fact he hadn't persisted any more in trying to send Rose away.

He glared at the two men who guarded him. They didn't look like people to mess with, not like innocent pawns at all. He was worried. She should've gotten out when they had the chance, that much he understood by now.

"Imagine... Your Queen within reach. What could my next move be?" Janvier's voice sounded again, soothing.

"You stay away from her. She has a kid, for heaven's sake..."  
Was he really pleading? Callen hated it.

"Train is slowing down," the third man mentioned. "You notice that, Franklin?"

"What's that?" Janvier now wanted to know.

"The train — it seems to be stopping. Didn't think we're already there."

"You're not."  
There was a pause, as if Janvier was wondering what the next move ought to be. "Continue with our plan. I need to see this." It was an order. "Take care of the woman first."

He screamed. "No!"

"She's precious to you, am I right agent Callen?"

Why reply? He only hoped Rose wouldn't speak this time. But by the look on her face Callen only read the terror in her eyes. Too shocked to talk.

Instead of talking, Callen kicked one of the men again, this time against the knee-cap. It would distract that one person for a short moment, he knew, but he wouldn't manage to win the game. He got on his feet and fought as best he could. There were hits on his torso, hits nearly everywhere on his already bruised body. He knew he'd lose this, but he'd do whatever was needed to be done to keep Rose out of this.

Still, only some moments later he had to give up.  
The person who stood closest to Rose decided to take his gun and swung it right at him. Callen managed to duck it the first time but concentrated on the gun a little too much and too long. A fist hit his jaw after and it hit him hard. So hard that his head kind of cracked back, and he hit it against the wall. The immediate wooziness that followed made Callen start to sink to the floor, grasping his throbbing head in pain. The barrel of the gun was back for the second round and didn't miss this time.  
His brain was in a shutdown and he went out.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen decided it was only some seconds that he was out. Still, he felt there was dried blood from where the skin of his skull was torn.  
Even now there was the hushing sound of Janvier talking.

"Well then, agent Callen. Tell me, it must be the other way around too. How would she feel when we start with you?"

Callen glared at the small screen and noticed how Janvier now addressed the man who held the phone with a single nod. "Go on."

The other guy had a large knife in his hand. The phone came closer. Not aimed at his face any longer. Janvier's voice was, however.  
"All in all you are to blame for what Naseem Vasiri did to me. Did you know that?"

It was years ago and still Callen remembered. From the time he and Kensi picked Janvier up in Iran from a bus, taking he man back with them to the United States where they forced him to work with them. Somehow he escaped only to mutilate Vasiri. Yes, he remembered.  
The knife came his way – large and sharp — and he started to breath hard, dreading what was going to happen next.

He knew.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **US Supermax Federal Prison || Florence, Colorado**

By the time Reyes and Jackson found out they weren't able to reach the officer called Decker, they reasoned something was off. So Jackson, the highest officer in charge, hit the panic button. In their block, the automatic doors closed immediately, only to be opened with a security code after.

And even though Martin Rivera had mentioned earlier that he wouldn't accompany Kensi and Deeks, he joined them in the near five minutes it took to half jog, half walk to the most right triangle block. Another uniformed guard awaited them and opened the gates manually after Rivera had identified his guests.

Kensi and Deeks entered the cell block where Janvier was kept and joined Jackson as fast as they could. Rivera preferred to stay in the observation room with Reyes.  
Jackson opened the cell door, noticing a prison guard in the small space between the closed, solid steel door and the actual bars. He immediately yelled in his coms "Frederick Decker was found, Sir!"

It must have been Decker's phone which Janvier used to make the call, although that fact never mattered any longer. What mattered was that Deeks and Kensi were in time to hear Janvier give an order.  
In time to see the man holding up a cell-phone.  
In time to hear Callen cry out in pain.  
In time to hear a woman scream in terror. In time to see the evil grin on Marcel Janvier's face when they finally entered the bars door.

"A little late, aren't you?"

Janvier was in time to be on the receiving end of Kensi's angry punch in his face, enough to drop the phone and being thrown to the wall.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Sam's car**

Deeks never panicked. Until this phone call he made and which was picked up by Eric. And Sam never wanted to hear the rush in Deeks' voice—he was too late already to prevent any harm being done to his partner. Fact was that the connection between Janvier and Callen's captor ended and nobody knew for sure what really happened with the lead agent, except for Janvier of course.

But he wasn't talking, 'just staring at Kensi', as Deeks mentioned.

"Two minutes, Deeks," Sam roared, trying to banish any thoughts of being too late anyway.

"There it is!" Eric pointed ahead where a flash of sunlight was reflected by the windows of the shiny and long line of connected carriages.  
In one of them they'd find their friend.

* * *

THanks for reading!  
Kni®benrots


	12. Chapter 12

**Moving on**

 **-Chapter 12-**

* * *

Author's note: I can't tell you often enough how much I appreciate your reviews. It is exactly the encouragement one needs while writing a story: thank you so much!

* * *

To the ones who left a Guest-review and whom I can't leave a personal reply different from in here; thank you for taking your time to let me know how you experienced reading the story as a whole or in small parts ?  
And for your information: the story IS coming to an end soon

* * *

Stop worrying

if your vision is new.

Let others make

that decision...

they usually do.

You keep moving on

~Stephen Sondheim~

* * *

The train came to a halt.

A helicopter landed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

"Consider this as my revenge. Where you ended my career this is the end of yours. 'Kill box mate' — a losing game".

A pair of strong arms held him and kept his arm firmly in position. Another arm was holding him to the point of nearly choking. The knife came down fast and his eyes followed the blade that bored in his right hand, next to the wrist bone. Within the blink of an eye the pain and horror reached his brain and he cried out loud.

Rose's scream hardly reached his ears as he kept staring at the knife which simply was stuck in his arm, in his body.

He literally heard the blood rushing through his body. Rushing in his ears. And Callen knew he needed to keep thinking. Keep breathing. Keep focused. Tried not to move his hand at all. He saw blood leaking on the box that was used to straighten his arm onto. It contained Christmas menu cards. Why on earth did his brain process information like this?

His mind was in a whirl now.  
Veins, muscles, tendon, sinew, bone — what kind of damage was done? He started to hyperventilate, tried to swallow it away.

From what seemed to be in another dimension he understood the doors were opened and he heard Rose's voice — a repeating 'Oh my God... oh my God.'

Did he hear noises from outside or was it just imagination? Callen managed to breathe out and inhale calmly, but gave up after a few times. He closed his eyes as wooziness and pain took over.  
If nothing happened he'd lose enough blood to lose consciousness, yet he was too scared to move the knife or his hand because he might damage it even worse.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Sam's car || up North in California**

Nell's phone call came when Sam and Eric already spotted the train and both were planning what the next moves might be, though without speaking to each other after Deeks' call had come in.

 _-"Hey guys, I contacted this Linda Watson like we talked about before. They're in the fourth coach from the back. Just sent the SWAT guys that way."_ Nell sounded as if in a rush.

"You sure that we find G in there too?"

 _-"Guess so, Sam."_

Eric hesitated a moment before he said "If Janvier wanted Callen dead why didn't he have him killed here in LA?"

Nell bit her underlip, exhaled with a loud puff and shook her head.  
 _-"I don't know. I mean… kidnapping is a risky thing indeed. And true, they did have a perfect leverage. Janvier knew Callen would come for Rose and her son Peter. Then why the train? Why up North?"_

"Don't need to think about that," Sam said, interrupting. "Not now. You ready, Beale?"

He noticed the short flicker of fear in the young tech's eyes. "We need to get to him, Eric. He counts on us. On you too."

Sam concentrated on the best position to leave the road and head towards the railway and once he spotted a left way drive and sped his car until he could finally reach the train. He inhaled deeply. Like Nell had announced, a helicopter was already there as was a bunch of three other, similar, cars. He had his Dodge Challenger come to a halt next to the others.

There was this short moment after he turned off the car and before Sam took the key out. Hesitation. For anyone who didn't know Sam Hanna it was unnoticeable. Yet it was there.

Still, he knew that in a case of a fight or torture, or worse, a life threatening situation, every single minute and even every second counts and so he faced his temporary partner, nodded and hurried to where he figured they needed to be.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **US Supermax Federal Prison || Florence, Colorado**

After the violence Kensi used on Janvier her anger only just grew. This man had killed Mike Renko. Killed Lauren Hunter. But not Callen, please, not Callen. The simple fact he'd got to an innocent family like the Cruelly's angered her so much that it felt like being suffocated.  
She wrinkled her nose, faced the Frenchman and tried again "Why the train, Janvier? Why now? Why?"

He stared at her, blank and silent once more.

Deeks now added "You used one prison officer and what, three or four other men?"

After another few silent seconds Janvier narrowed his eyes slightly. "Money makes the world go round, detective Deeks. Maybe there are more people who are willing to work for me. If not now, perhaps in the future. You too may want to watch your back."  
There was a half chuckle which followed his words.

"You sick bastard!" Deeks spat.

"Not worth it, Deeks," Kensi tried to calm him. Then she asked again "Why the train?"

There was no response and the piercing pale eyes stared at her, giving her the creeps. She shrugged and got on her feet, heaving a deep sigh. Deeks knocked on the door while looking up at where the camera was. Without another word two officers entered the interrogation room and Deeks turned around to see if Kensi followed him.

When she was just about to leave through the same door she heard Janvier ask "How is he, agent Blye? Could it be that agent Hanna is gonna need a new partner?"

Kensi turned around. Straightened her shoulders and met his ice-cold grin with the most confident stare and a smile she managed to last a second longer than usual as a response and left without a single word.

Once the doors slam shot she closed her eyes for a moment. "I really hate that guy, Deeks. How could he?"

Usually Deeks was looking at the bright side of life. This time he was serious. "What if Callen was hurt too badly, babe? We haven't seen… I can't even imagine anyone doing this."

"But here we are, walking around in Colorado instead of being able to help him, or Sam." Kensi also had seen the messages Nell had been sending around at the team and it was clear enough that Sam and Eric were nearly around. The feeling that there wasn't anything they could do.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Coast Starlight Train**

He'd closed his eyes for the briefest moment yet all seemed to have changed when Callen opened them again. He saw how Rose's eyes were darting from him to the door which was left open. There was no sign of any of the three men Janvier had sent.

The pain in his arm was extreme, his head was pounding and he could hardly swallow away the nausea and lightheadedness.

"Go Rose... Get Peter."

She nodded once, shook her head immediate after and sighed. "But you need help."

He didn't reply. The fact that the train stopped moving, the noises he heard outside gave hope that help was on its way. Maybe medical help. Rose was right, he needed help.  
Right now he was sick because of the thought that moving, in any way at all, already was something he couldn't do. Everything hurt. Or was it the plain thought that Janvier finally defeated him? He glanced at the dark stained paper but avoided looking at the reason of the bleeding. Instead he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes again.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

What had it been, a short three minutes between leaving the car and where he was now?  
So much had been going on. There was the shooting, outside the train, between the team of heavily armed SWAT's. Sam who had to push Eric away from the line of fire since the younger tech analyst was just not ready for a scene like this. One of the four men, all with beards he noticed, died on the spot. Three more would need medical care, or maybe not any longer.

Nothing Sam was paying attention to. He needed to hurry. Three minutes, maybe more. He knew Eric was right behind him, still horrified because of the way the shooting took place.

Then they met Rose, whom he recognized from the pictures which Eric had shown him. It felt like weeks ago, but it was less than 24 hours ago.  
"Roseanne Cruelly?"  
He read the panic and the horror and fear in her eyes, large in a pale face.  
She nodded and he introduced himself as Sam Hanna. It made her relax only a little, as if she knew it was okay to meet him. Sam sent her with Eric to find her son somewhere in this same coach.

And then he was alone.  
He remembered the young boy's words. A small compartment with a hatch where Callen had helped him to escape through. The lay out of the individual coaches Nell sent to their phones. He knew he was nearly there, only some steps away. And he was dreading the very next steps, the very next minutes.

"G!"

He nearly stumbled over the feet of his friend. There wasn't any response coming from Callen and Sam kneeled, checked.  
The heart was beating and Callen was breathing in and out.  
Sam exhaled. At least that part was alright. He shivered as he took in what he saw.

"Nell, get medics send this way," he ordered.

 _-"But they're working—"_

"Now".

She probably contacted them without him being able to listen, then Nell was back on the line. In a small voice she asked " _Is he… How bad is it?"_

And Sam knew every member of his team was listening and waiting for an update.  
"Unconscious at the moment. I can't… He lost a lot of blood. I'll need help to move him from here."

Like Callen, Sam was far too scared to take the knife out. What if he would hurt his partner more by moving anything?

It took longer than he wanted and longer than he expected to hear somebody coming his way and in the meantime he simply prayed that help came in soon enough. All that blood… A black eye too, plus the smears of dried blood on the shirt. What happened in here? Why this train?

There was no time to ponder over these thoughts. Two EMT's entered and observed the situation. The first man just shook his head and went through the contents of the small backpack he carried, while the other man was the speaking partner.

"What the hell happened in here?"

Sam just shrugged. What was there to say? "I… well, I don't know. Thing is I want you to do all you can to save his hand."

The man nodded "That's what we do. He's one of the good guys?"

"He is."  
No need to explain that this man, his friend, his partner, probably saved the lives of these two EMT's more than once as well. But then, who in Los Angeles or anywhere else in California, was aware of that? It was what they did.

"We'll sedate him first."

Sam widened his eyes with that information. "But he's unconscious. You suppose it's necessary?"

"Trust me," the man said. Then he took the arm which wasn't pinned and gently but skillfully injected the contents of a syringe into Callen's veins.  
A soft moan sounded, even in his unconscious state.

The other EMT already studied the knife and how it cut through the hand. He shook his head a few times and Sam swallowed away the bile he felt crawling up in his throat.  
Another hustling into the contents of the backpack and there was a strap and a lot of bandage which the man held ready to use. He seemed to be counting down until he nodded more or less to himself. Again, in a skillful way he lifted Callen's hand, avoiding to touch the knife. It was still stuck into his forearm and strapping the arm was impossible.

"We need him on the gurney. There's no possibility to keep this immobile like this so I'm going to try and stick it with all the adhesive plasters we have in here. It may take a few moments though. The knife didn't go through and through".

All Sam could do was watch and wait. It seemed to take hours and he finally had the guts to ask the men "I need him in Los Angeles. Any chance to get him into the helicopter and get him fly that way?"

Still quietly working, the first man scraped his throat and answered. "I suppose so. Not our decision though."

Sam understood. "I'll work on that." And then "You get that, Nell?"

She hummed as a confirmation and Sam knew it was taken care of.

Too many people were waiting outside of the train. Uniformed people, who had taken care of the security. Eric was there, with Roseanne Cruelly and her son, Sam saw. The helicopter, with its blades already in motion. The gurney fitted in, even though it wasn't flown in the same way. The EMT's hopped in as well and one of the man motioned to Sam. "You can fly with us."

His gaze caught Eric's and he nodded. "Take the car, Eric. Please drive them home, will you?"

Eric nodded, tapped one of the officers on the shoulder and he shared a message which Sam didn't hear. But once the helicopter was in the air, Sam saw how the large silver train was set in motion as well.

He let his gaze go over his partner and was doing the math's. It might take over an hour before they'd reach the city and even longer to get to the nearest hospital in town. He just spoke aloud, knowing that no-one was listening "Hang in there buddy. Just hang in there."

* * *

 _As ever, thanks for reading! Your reviews are welcome._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **\- Moving on -**

* * *

 _Disclaimer -_ This story is purely fictional which means names, places and events are made up just as they are. And if it means that if they resemble to anyone or any place you know, it is all coincidental. Of course, any of the well-known characters of the series NCIS Los Angeles were made to come alive and come from Shane Brennan and CBS. I gladly use them in this storyline!

* * *

 _Author's Note_ – Thank you once again for leaving your reviews which are well appreciated, as ever, Wotumba1, Linda Wigington, DS2010, Orangetails, Callensnext1, LostForeverInHisEyes, Guest (glad the previous chapter didn't disappoint!), countrygirluk56 and Mulderette.

* * *

Forgive yourself

for your faults

and your mistakes

and move on

~Les Brown~

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital**

In the old days it would have been Hetty who'd made all the right arrangements. Nowadays it was Nell. The helicopter landed on the rooftop of the Good Samaritan on Wilshire Avenue and a team of professional ER doctors and nurses were already waiting. Statistics were exchanged even before Sam sat foot on the ground and he felt helpless as his friend was wheeled out and away.

"You may want to follow us, sir. There's a waiting room, we'll contact you once we're done working on agent Callen."

He shook his head on those words. "Work on?"

The young man shrugged and sent an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sir. What I meant to say is that we'll have him ready to go into surgery after we check on the wounds and how to operate."

"I get that," Sam replied. He quietly followed and sat down in one of the hideous chairs which were somehow connected with the ones next to it. He took his phone to contact Nell. She'd tell the others, he knew, where Callen was and why. After the short explanation — he never wanted to share the details and actually he figured all the team heard it was bad anyway — Sam promised her to call back as soon as he heard more.

He sat for a while, leaning his elbows on his knees and let his thought go to what he remembered from the last time one of the team was hurt.  
It had been Callen too. He had made fun of it, back then.  
Ever since that time Callen lost a lot — the contact with Anna and therefor the relationship they had. It most probable ended long before that, however his friend never talked about that. Callen lost his father, Garrison, too, since he died. And instead of growing closer to the little sensation of being a family, Sam knew that his friend hadn't seen his half-sister nor her son ever since. He even doubted if Alex and Jake had been to the private funeral of Garrison.  
Then they all were aware of figurative slap in the face when Callen found out how his father had taken care of a boy, adopted him a long time ago. A boy of the same age as Callen. The old man took care of somebody else's son in all those years while he never came to look for his own flesh and blood. That fact alone must have hurt Callen, but even worse was the fact that the boy was a Comescu. A member of the family that killed Garrison's wife, Callen's mother. And worse, a member of the family who had been after Callen too many times. It seemed like there never was a break for his friend.

Sure, Sam had lost Michelle, the love of his life. But at least he still had a family, loved ones.  
Callen hadn't. He lost all he ever hoped to find in less than a week. He'd tried so hard, wanted to be part of a family so bad, but it was all taken from him, again. When ever would there be a time for Callen to feel carefree?

At that very moment Sam wondered if the team should've stopped the lead agent from doing what he did, from going where he'd gone.

He shook his head, suddenly feeling both guilty as scared that maybe Callen chose to go in too nonchalantly especially since they all knew by then they were dealing with Janvier.  
Or hadn't he? Because eventually Callen also did what he would always do — protect the innocent.

Janvier and the men he hired had known all the time that Callen would have all kind of back up of his team, perhaps the means to track GPS and all. They'd know how cocky and self-assured he was too. And willing to fight anyone and ready to go in a case when it came to protect. But they never wanted to let him fight on his own turf. Somewhere between the first simple route to follow and ending up in here, like this, Callen been surprised. Like Sam and Eric themselves had been too. Maybe ignorant.

In the end, to find someone who is kidnapped is quite difficult. Which is exactly what had happened to Callen. Janvier had him where he wanted him, where he could control him, even from a distance.  
Had it been in the City of Angels itself would have been a struggle, perhaps, to find his partner. Finding him in a train was actually like finding a needle in a haystack and he doubted it ever it would have happened at all, or in time, if it hadn't been for his Callen's ingenuity.

Again, Sam shook his head. And the waiting continued.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **The Challenger || On the road to Los Angeles, 101**

So far, neither Rose nor Eric had been very talkative. The approximate 170 miles drive from somewhere in the middle of no-where, which was in fact somewhere between Grover City and Morro Bay back to Los Angeles, was nearly taking four hours.  
Perhaps it was because there was a young boy clinging to his mother, who both were in the backseat of the black Challenger. Perhaps it was because both of them, Rose and himself, were worried for Callen's wellbeing. Because of what they both had witnessed.  
Perhaps because Eric was concentrating too much on the driving itself. The car was very different from his own small Nissan and the simple fact that Sam trusted him to use the car, him, while he knew Callen or Deeks hardly ever had the chance to do so. And because of that he was scared to do anything that might hurt Sam's car.

They were already entering Los Angeles when Rose finally said "I think they were supposed to leave the train with the next stop".

Eric glanced over his shoulder for a short second. "Why?"

"Why they'd want to get off? How would I know? It's not something they discussed with me, nor that they'd ask for any permission."

"I get that." Eric paused another few minutes, which didn't feel awkward. "If they had tickets, it wouldn't be a big thing. Get out one by one, not as a group of three."

"Four. There actually were four men. Agent Callen hit one of the men and I guess he broke his nose. I… he wasn't with the other three though when they… you know."

That fit well with what they thought from the beginning on, however Eric was pretty sure the leader of the SWAT's were talking about three. "I should check at our office. You think you could help us with identifying these men?"

"They all had a beard. And tattoos." This time it wasn't Rose speaking, but the boy.

Eric smiled and through the rear view mirror he addressed the young boy "There you go. You see, you can help indeed. I was wondering if you could be of our help while you are staying in our secret hideaway office."  
He silently laughed when he saw the young boy's eyes widen from a new excitement. "Will there be people in tactical outfits?"

"Like mine, you mean?"

Peter now shook his head. "Teams. I didn't talk about only one man wearing only a vest."

Rose interrupted. "What kind of place you are talking about?"

"It's a place where we are safe. A place where we interrogate the bad guys, where we meet with people from other agencies." He now caught Rose's gaze in the same mirror. "It will be best to crash at that place for the moment, you know, just until — well, your place is…"  
Eric actually didn't want to discuss the matter of their house, Callen's former place, which was still guarded and probably still fenced off from access. Until that changed he wouldn't want them to be there.  
He changed the subject. "Callen was dressed casually, wasn't he? You see, we are an agency where we are used to blend into the crowd."

"Like James Bond," Peter agreed.

"They're **NOT** like James Bond,' his mother spoke as she remembered the short conversation she'd had with Callen. And then she addressed Eric. "Take us to that place you were talking about. After that, I'll call my father. Perhaps we could stay a while at his place."

"Ma! It will be impossible. Gramps apartment is far too small. Besides, I want my own things."

Rose closed her eyes for a moment, processing what happened in those few days. Sure, she should realize her son seemed to not see the consequences of it all, not at his age. He simply shrugged and stepped over the horror of what happened, while she had her serious doubts if she ever would want to move back in the place which she considered as her home, a place she desperately needed for herself and her son after he had to miss his father.

None of them were talking, not until they finally reached the boatshed. All Eric could hope for was some good news coming from Sam, and the fact that Kensi and Deeks were coming this way as soon as possible.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital**

"Excuse me, Sir, you are related to uhm, Grissa Callen?" Callen's first name sounded as very extravagant coming from the small Asian nurse who was dressed the standard green uniform of this hospital.

Sam just nodded and the nurse smiled politely. "You may want to follow me," she continued.

"He's alright, isn't he?"

His heart skipped a beat when the nurse shook her head. She let it follow by "I am not the person to tell you, Sir."

He hated moments like these, not knowing what to expect. They passed some sliding doors until he was left in a private room and the nurse left. Sam still stood there, waiting as his throat tightened. He sighed deeply when he heard someone coming his way. He turned to see an older woman entering the room. She looked tired and he could see it wasn't the result of one long day of work only.

"Maria Mickler, surgeon," she introduced herself. She gestured to the chair closest to where he still stood and took the other one. In about the same motion she opened a laptop, entered a password and once she sat down she finally faced him, a large frown between her brows. "So... where to start."

"How is he?"

She nodded some times. "Mister Callen. Well, where to start. He lost quite an amount of blood. Indeed, obviously from the wound on his arm. But there were also minor internal bleedings. There's spleen damage. Stabbing wound in his shoulder, bruising everywhere, a concussion..."

She paused and again Sam kept his breath before he dared to ask "And his arm?"

She looked away from him and glanced at the screen of her laptop. Then she turned it in a way he could watch it too. "This is just an image, as you can see." And she told him, indicating with a pencil she took from her desk, what she and her team had done to prevent as much damage as possible.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

It didn't take long when Sam saw his friend's eyes blink several times until his gaze was finally fixed on Sam's posture.

"Hey buddy. Good to have you back."

There was no response except from a soft moan and Sam asked "You're okay?"

It took a few seconds and he saw how Callen's clear blue eyes darted from his face to the monitor and the pole next to the other side of the bed. The stand which carried one small bag filled with a red fluid and a larger one with a clear fluid. The small tubes had the solutions running and he saw how the IV ended beneath the adhesive tape on his left hand.  
The realization he was in a hospital.  
Then the memory of what happened before as his head turned to the other side in a sudden shock.  
He observed.  
He concluded.  
Closed his eyes.  
No words.  
Nothing.

"G?" Sam tried.

Nothing.

He knew Callen wasn't asleep. He was just closing himself off completely, avoiding any emotional moments this way.  
And Sam couldn't handle that, not now, not when it wasn't necessary. He heaved a deep sigh and then he shove the chair only a bit closer and gently squeezed Callen's right shoulder.  
"G? It's—"

"Don't." His voice croaked with the one, harshly spoken word.

He counted to ten just to give his partner only some more time to process. Then he scraped his throat again and in a soft spoken voice he patiently started over. "It should be alright, G. Give it time."

Callen squeezed his eyes close and hardly noticeable he shook his head.

"Tell me," Sam prodded.

Again, the shake of his head. Sam knew better than persuading and both of them fell silent. Just when Sam wondered if he should get up and leave the room for a moment, Callen spoke "Sam, I… I don't feel it. There's… I can't move or feel my hand, my fingers. There's nothing."

There was silence for another second until Sam finally said "I know buddy, I know…"

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading. As ever, feel free to review!_

Kni®benrots


	14. Chapter 14

**Moving on**

 **Chapter 14**

* * *

 _Authors Note:_ So grateful for all those reviews. It sure helps me to go on and continue the storyline! And in case you do love the read and do enjoy this storyline but somehow you've been too shy to let me know: please don't, just let me know how you liked it.

Enjoy the read please and let me know if it is readable at all…

Kni®benrots

* * *

~ we have to move on. We have to see the big picture ~

Jack Reacher

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital**

"Just... G, it's okay, it'll all be okay," Sam hushed. "It's just that these doctors WANT you not to be able to move anything at all. They temporarily paralyzed your arm all from your elbow on to the tops of your fingers. Locally. One injection every 3 hours. So far, you weren't around, so you haven't heard any explanation nor felt the first injection going in."

There was the undistinctive wiggle of his jaws. Still avoiding to look his friend in the eyes. Detaching himself from what could happen, from any setbacks that might come.

"But they won't know for sure." His words came out soft.

He had a point in there and Sam knew it. Thinking back of how he found his friend, he swallowed away the same fear that Callen uttered.

Still, he shook his head and smiled. "Nor that I know for sure whether or not the Challenger will let me down tomorrow. C'mon G. Look at the bright side. Could've been much, much worse, right?"

There was a soft hum from the usually sturdy team lead. Then there was deeper breathing too.

"Get some rest brother."  
Sam had used about the same words, months ago, in a shabby shed somewhere in Mexico as well, he remembered. Callen had been seriously wounded back then, but different as he was right. And although reluctant, Callen didn't resist the urge to stay awake this time. No wonder. The final bits of anesthesia probably rushed through his veins, even now.  
Sam was more or less grateful for it. At least it meant some time to recover. If there was anything Sam wished for it was that Callen would stay out if danger and unharmed for the next few years. Sam had enough of sitting next to a hospital bed and besides, he needed his partner sound and sharp.

Right now, both men were all too aware that it could be over just like that.  
And yes, although the surgeon had been quite confident, none of them were completely sure Callen's arm would heal properly.

Once again, Sam let his thoughts go after heaving a deep sigh.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Sam still sat there when he heard footsteps coming his way.  
Eager steps. Small heal. Feminine yet energetic.  
The other steps: sturdy. A slight shuffle though, as if hesitating.

Even without looking up or around Sam knew it was Kensi in the lead, followed by Deeks.

Both entered the private cubicle while remaining silent for a short minute, then they both started a question. "How is he doing?" "Would this have happened if we were sharper?"

Sam just shook his head and said, his voice soft "He's running a fever I think. Wouldn't surprise me."

Both special agents simply nodded.

Kensi let her gaze go over the sleeping man in the bed. A black eye, well, she'd seen that before. A VI which was supplying the most essential fluids was nothing new either. Then there was his arm, resting on a puffy pillow which seemed to be designed for that purpose only. The arm was solidly bandaged from the elbow on, but then there were the finger tips she saw and she slowly breathed out. "You know, sometimes we make bad choices for good reasons. As ever, all part of the job. But this... this just isn't fair Sam. I still think that if we..."

"No, Kensi. There's no way you could've prevented this."

Deeks shook his head too "That bastard simply must have planned this a long time ago." He sighed and the three of them fell silent, each with their own thoughts.

"We did take the cell phone with us, did you know that?" Deeks asked. "Once we'll be back we can have the wonder-twins pull all info off. There should be something… Some kind of mistake. Evidence."

The only reply was a simple nod of the former SEAL.

Deeks nearly whispered, afraid to wake Callen. "What's the damage anyway?"

The dark brown eyes from the senior agent went over his still resting friend and he shrugged. "Massive blood loss, that's for sure. Damage to his spleen, but hell I won't know what that means. There was a stabbing wound, which was looking like it was inflaming, the doctor said. Oh, and a concussion. What's new…"

He fell silent again and Deeks asked "Worst case scenario?" as he simply pointed to Callen's arm.

"We… I don't know. The surgeon doesn't know. For the time being they took care of every single sinew, muscle, tendon, bone remain just like they managed to get them back in the position everything has to be. No one knows how it'll heal and how—" He swallowed away his fears and looked away from his friend and his co-workers too.

"Callen can switch from righthanded to being lefthanded, and the other way around again as well. Remember, after he failed with the case of the bomber, Anwar Amurov? I've seen him practicing and practicing. Writing, climbing, shooting… It shouldn't be a problem, Sam," Kensi said.

"C'mon babe… no way he'd pass the tests if his hand fails, if his health fails."

Kensi sank down on one of the stools next to the chair Sam sat, and she rested her head in her hands for a moment. Of course Deeks was right and somehow she felt sad already for everything Callen had endured and more than infuriating because of what Janvier had done. Her voice was cold when she finally was the one who spoke. "No matter what Ochoa or Vance say, we are the ones who are going to have to make Janvier being punished for this."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

Nell had taken the only free chair in the cubicle, behind Callen's desk. Sam, Deeks and Kensi leaned back in the chairs behind their own desks. Only Nell and Sam had a laptop opened and worked on it.

"So far, there's little to work with," she said. "I think we need to visit this Jon Grimaldi in hospital. He's the only one who survived the shooting." The others were just listening and so she continued. "Grimaldi was partnering with Roger Doyle, Franklin Lawrence and Mick Sanders. As I found out before, all four belonged to a network of white supremacist groups making their home in the ever so tolerant San Francisco."

"Why get involved in kidnapping and the violence against a federal agent?" Kensi asked.

Nell sucked in her lips and shrugged a little. "Maybe money? I mean, if Janvier decided to pay for it?"

By now they all knew that the FBI might take over their case, as it was an interstate federal case. To all those involved it would be a separate offense. Janvier would have had all the time he needed to prepare and inform himself about the differences between state court and federal court.  
Still, NCIS would have to claim the case. Sam didn't particularly look forward to work with FBI and he figured Callen would agree, once he was back in the game. Until then, they would need to keep the grasp on this case. Janvier needed to be charged, although so far Sam wasn't sure how to handle that.

"Deeks?" he asked, "if you were a District Attorney, how would you handle this?"

Deeks leaned back even more, then rolled back his chair and got up, keeping eye contact with all three of the colleagues. "Well, ladies and gentlemen," and he scraped his throat several times. "You all know I once was a simple public defender. In this position, I suggest we try and find out how those four men who abused, or actually savaged an federal officer ánd who kidnapped two innocent people, I repeat, how those four people were given orders and what their plans were. Therefor, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we do as miss Jones in here suggested minutes ago. If all of you agree, it is up to very special agent Kenselina Marie Blye and thy humble detective Martin Deeks." He looked around and repeated "No objections? Case closed."

"Hmm," Sam hummed. He actually was overruled by the way Deeks had spoken and yet, there wasn't anything else he could think of right now that would help the case.

Nell sent him a small smile. "If they go and interview Grimaldi, we could—" She didn't finish her sentence as it was disturbed by the buzzing of Sam's phone.

He hummed as he recognized the number which went with the incoming call. "Hetty," he greeted, and he looked at the others and nodded to Deeks and Kensi. They got up, knowing what to do.

The older woman simply called because she came back from visiting Callen. "What the hell happened, Sam? Your part of the story, not his, please."

And he explained. Or at least, he tried to.

She sounded sad and old now, in Sam's opinion. Not like the Hetty he knew and he was all too aware how she already retreated herself from the actions in the office. It all started when Mosley came aboard, and ever since she'd made herself scarce. There were sparse moments she'd been around - he remembered Deeks and Kensi's wedding where she suddenly and miraculously, appeared and disappeared after just as soon. But he figured she must have been around when Garrison was buried, although he never had the guts to ask Callen. It was just as logical she was around right now, after all she was the one listed as Callen's next of kin.

"If we'd seen this coming, this never would have happened. No way," he concluded.

A short huffing sigh sounded on the other side. "Oh but it would have, Mr Hanna, believe me, it would have. There's no way he'd leave this family you're talking about out there on their own. You of all people should know that. There'd be the guilt, stronger than anything else. Our Mr Callen rather puts his own life at risk in order to safe other's."

Of course she was right. Sam realized this once the words were spoken.

"But what if—"

She just interrupted "Sam Hanna… I hoped I taught you better than using the 'what if' questions." Hetty then scraped her throat once again, and for the first time, Sam worried. How many times Owen Granger had done that, and hadn't been a result of agent Orange? And hadn't Hetty worked with Granger back then? It hit him like a ton of bricks. No way he dared to discuss it with her, nor with Callen, not even when his friend would be around.

She then continued. "What I sincerely want to happen, Mr. Hanna, is to definitely get rid of Marcel Janvier. And no, I am not talking about plain murder as you will understand. It needs to be done professionally. The man serves a triple lifetime yet still manages to get a filthy grip on my boy's life like it was nothing. We, you, need to stop this."

Sam shook his head on the words 'my boy''. This was how she considered Callen, as the son she never had and he'd always be her boy, no matter how old Callen was. It amazed and warmed him at the same time. Times like these Callen sure could use someone like Hetty, heck, he deserved someone like Hetty. He closed his eyes for a short second—it would devastate Hetty if Callen would be hurt beyond healing. As it would devastate Callen if Hetty would disappear once more to never return, a possibility which was a scenario he could envision.

"I'm sorry, Hetty… I was thinking how. But yeah, you're right. We've been brainstorming about this as well. We're not seeing how, right now. Not yet. You think I should contact Vance about it?"

She made a confirmative mumble and asked "Deputy director Ochoa's not around?"

"Nope. Come to think of it, Special Prosecutor Rogers is. Perhaps he'll be able to come up with a usable solution."

"Very well, Mr. Hanna. I suggest you will contact Rogers, and in case of trouble, please let me know. I will see to it that I get in touch with Leon Vance. Rest assure we will do our utmost and make sure Janvier can never do any more harm to Grisha."

Sam was about to agree with her words but she already closed the call.

Nell glanced at him, curious, and he said "You heard the woman."  
She nodded, in a strange way happy that Hetty called. Sure, she preferred to have the small boss around, however she too knew deep down it would never happen again.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Sam called Rogers and explained what they were facing right now. Although Rogers was in Seattle, he promised to head over to the office of special projects as soon as he could. It strangely strengthened him. .

The very first moment Rogers had been around it had been to intervere with their office, their work. And now, well, the man had grown on the team.

Eric came down from his sacred computer center shortly after and he addressed Sam.

"Rose called, Sam. She wanted to know how Callen's doing."

"And?"

"Perhaps if you… I figured, Nell and I could work on all the intel we have so far. And well, Kensi and Deeks are on their way already, so, there's you, and ehm."

He simply had to laugh at Eric's way of reasoning and large dimple appeared in Sam's cheek. "I get it. She's going in there on her own?"

He read the pang of worry in the tech's eyes and he added "It's okay. I'll head over that way too, Beale.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital || later that afternoon**

She stood outside the private room and stared at bed and its sleeping user. For a short moment she looked around, acknowledging his presence.

"He looks so... lost."

Sam simply nodded. "True. Yet looks can deceive. He's not the type who rest a lot. Right now, the doctors are happy to see him sleep and rest and to be honest with you, so am I. His body sure needs it."

"How... why did he let this happen?"

"It is what we do, Rose," Sam said. Like her, he let his gaze go over his partner's sleeping posture. "How are you doing, Rose? You already had a talk, a debrief with our psych?"

"Dr Blake, Jessie? Yes, I have. We both have, actually. I left Peter with my father. The boy is okay, you know. He looks up at everyone working as a federal agent, and I suppose you are one of his most recent heroes, agent Hanna."

"You may call me Sam. Feels better, y'know."

After some silent moments, Rose started talking again. "They took my son. Played with our lives, took our freedom. And it was because of him. I've been scared, worried, angry, astonished... heck, I really don't know. Like a rollercoaster, all those emotions. And I hated him for it too, you know, I really did. Probably showed it too." She wet her lips several times and went on "It was all because of him, so who else could I blame but him? Who-ever did this, they simply used my son, and me, and put us in danger simply to hurt him. And he — well, he let it happen. Fought, although it was in vain. Wanted to trade, I suppose, so Peter and I could leave, be safe. And so we are. Yes... I'm okay, I think."  
She glanced at Callen's still posture and shook her head several times, and she turned to Sam again and stated "He really trusts you."

Sam softly chuckled "I know, Rose. It's the other way around as well." His brown eyes locked with hers. "You want to talk to him?"

"But then we'd have to wake him. Is there anything you can let me know, about his—" She shivered a little, thinking back about the knife.

He immediately understood and he shook his head. "So far, they prefer to keep his arm and hand paralyzed temporarily. For the surgeons in here it appears to be as simple as that, for the time being. I haven't heard for how long, yet, but it worries him. And me, to be honest."

Rose nodded. "You know, I wished there was something I could do." She stepped back and leaned against a nurse's desk, more or less expecting he'd step back as well.  
"Once the telephone connection was made, his whole demeanor changed. As if it scared him, as if he know what to expect. Who was it?"

Sam shook his head. "Not something I can share. Sorry for that, Rose. A ghost from the past, one we need to hunt."

"Glad you do." Again she sighed before she finally asked "I expected his family would be around. He talked about them, about his family. They know what he does for a job, and they know how to deal with difficult situations. But… do they live nearby? You warned them?"

There was a flash of understanding. Callen and family. It was him, it was the team, the people he trusted. "They were around this morning," he assured.

"One more thing, Sam. Are you ever afraid?"

It must have been in his eyes and he really didn't understand why she asked. "Just before he… well, we had some time to talk and he confessed that he was scared. Scared of what would happen. And… I still don't get it. Should I, or you, or him, still be scared?"

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 _Thank you for reading!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Moving On**

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A/N \- Thank you so much, once again, for helping me with writing this and making me want to finish the story too. Thank you too for leaving your reviews. I really, really appreciate those! Some of you are rather new readers to me, some of you were following this story and former ones already.  
Enjoy this chapter!

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Disclaimer \- Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS and by Shane Brennan, the same characters R. Scott Gemmill should've explored better by now? I don't own or claim to own the characters who belong to the original tv show, but love to use them and play with them for this writing nevertheless!

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"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation;  
trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened...  
or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on."

― Tupac Shakur

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital**

 _"_ _Should I, or you, or him, still be scared?"_

Sam hesitated a second before he replied. "He will be safe, Rose. We'll take care of that. Your son should be out of danger as well now he spends time with your father, believe me."

His calm voice made her look up at him again. She let his words sink in and she widened her light grey eyes. "It's the house, isn't it?"

"The ties with G," Sam acknowledged. "Callen moved out and you became the new owner in what, a week later?" On her short confirming nod he continued "Somehow these men added one thing to the other and they must've reported you and your son just moved in with him."

She let her hands go through her hair nervously. "So I am angry, because that all of this happened because of him. But meanwhile he's the one who did all he could to get us out of there, and as long as I avoid going back to our place, we are going to be okay." Rose shook her head. "Can we ever go back in there? That's one of the things that bothers me."

"There's more?" Sam made his words sound warm, like he could. Still, he tried not to prod.

Again, she let her gaze go through the windows to the sleeping man she'd come to see. Another non-distinctive nod was followed by her soft spoken "If… Would he be here if I had managed to get away too?"

Sam breathed out in a huff and shook his head, shrugged and said "Perhaps he'd be off even worse. You won some time, and your son is a marvel. We were looking for this so-called needle in a haystack, but we didn't even know which haystack to look for. The moment Peter called me, I must admit I was very, very surprised. But at least we knew where to search and even though it took some time to get to you, all three of you were alive. Perhaps they weren't worried because it was just the kid who got away. If you'd been out of reach too, they probably would have been scared you might get help. A quick kill and perhaps the use of the emergency brakes would have gotten them away from the place. So, all in all, considered to who the enemy is, he's lucky to be alive."  
There wasn't a single lie in what he said, still, Sam wasn't too sure how this all would work out. He focused his attention to her, instead of bothering her with his doubts and deeper thoughts. "Please don't feel guilty , he continued. There's no way you could have changed anything. And there's no use in over-analyzing this situation or thinking in 'what-if's'… Now, has Eric Beale found you a place to stay as well? That is if you're not going to stay in the boat house."

She elevated her chin a little and straightened her shoulders. "Guess my dad's place isn't that bad for a couple of days, until — well… Can we keep in touch, agent Hanna?"

Sam tilted his head a little. "It's Sam. My name, that is. And sure, I'll keep you posted."

"This man… the one who ordered to do this, is he — he won't be around, will he?"

"No he won't, Rose. He's behind bars already," Sam confirmed. "He's pure evil, that's all I can say."

She casually pulled up the sleeves of her sweater and stood up. "Thanks, Sam Hanna. For everything. Oh, and please tell your friend Callen I dropped by. I… I'll be around again soon. Could you let him know that?"  
Without words he simply let her know he would and then she turned and left. Again, Sam was on his own with his friend, who still was asleep.  
Did he trust the security measures of this hospital? He still wasn't too sure.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital, five hours later**

Kensi and Deeks had come to see their friend as well and in the short period they'd been back at the office, they had managed to get a copy of the phone records Eric had pulled off the phone from the prison ward. And right now, they played it for the third time in the hospital room. It wasn't all that easy to listen to.  
There was Janvier's voice they heard.  
Kensi and Deeks heard it a day ago. And even after the years there was no contact at all, both Sam and Callen recognized it immediately as well.  
The accent, the drawl. _"I'm going to let you take the thing this man values most; the ones he cares for. So you may just toy with the family, to hurt him, and do what I asked before — get rid of them. Mutilate him, for my personal entertainment."_

The four of them fell silent, each with their own thoughts. What they all knew, deep down, was that what they just heard had been Janvier's plan all the time. And despite Callen tried to fight and handle four men during the train ride, Janvier nearly got what he wanted. Yet Roseanne and Peter Cruelly both were okay, although some emotional evaluation would be necessary. How Callen would heal, they weren't sure of.

"No way we can let Janvier get away with this," Kensi stated. "Not even when this short tape will not hold up in court."  
She paused a few seconds and glanced at her team mates. "Right?"

"You heard the woman," Deeks added.

Sam shook his head. "We need to do this the legal way. Try and find a way to let this man disappear forever. And if we can't find a way, Hetty and director Vance will."

"Is… This is all we have?" Callen's voice sounded hoarse although he was more alert than earlier on. "What else did you hear?"

There was a short understanding glance between the couple, then Deeks said "We visited him, Kensi and I. I — we don't know how he did it, but he got his hands on a cell phone. Got people from the outside world work for him. You've met them, these men. They belonged to the White Supremacists. You've met some of them before and sure made some enemies in that organization, buddy."

Kensi started "But he shouldn't have been able to —"

"He'll always be trying!" Callen interrupted in a loud growl, letting these words follow by a swear. "Eric still must have the footage from earlier interrogations. There must be something which proves he's doing this to… well. There were plenty of moments in the past during which he solemnly made a pledge to kill the ones I love!" He let his words follow by some softer "If you hadn't been in time, he would have had her killed, Sam. He would have killed Rose, an innocent woman. Perhaps more people. Because of me."

"Which is why we have to stop him," Sam agreed.

Deeks got on his feet. "Which is why the Kenz and I will delve deeper into the material we have."

Kensi followed her husband and partner after she sent a short smile in the direction of her co-workers who stayed behind.

After they left, Callen let the air escape slowly through his nose and leaned back a bit further into the soft pillows. "Just remind me every now and then, Sam, that I don't ever want to own a house again. No way anyone ought to be able to trace me because of a property, taxes, insurances, not even by the electoral roll. No property, no pictures, not even of aliases."

A soft chuckle came from his friend. "No relationship either, I guess."

"If he is able to do this..." Callen was serious and he simply ignored Sam's words. "I just have to think hard. And think like him."  
No matter Callen was still in this hospital bed, his thoughts were sharp enough. "It's no joke Sam. He'll always try and find a way to get to me, to take whatever I care for. It could be you, Hetty, or Kensi... or for heaven's sake, even Kamran, Sam."

Both men fell silent for a minute and Callen noted the sudden fear in his strong partner's eyes. After the loss of Michelle Sam was extra protective of his kids, especially of his daughter. The girl had grown up so fast and even worse, she moved out and wasn't the young girl within the reach of her father any longer.

"True... Janvier has no conscience at all, so it seems," Sam agreed. Hadn't Callen told how that Janvier made pledge to 'kill the ones he loved'?  
He shuddered with the thought and Callen added "This move may get him a fourth life imprisonment, still no chance of parole. He wants to get even with me. Just look at me. And perhaps he's in for death penalty and do whatever it takes. Best by taking revenge, right? But I won't let that happen, Sam. Not again."

The confession surprised his partner. "But crap, G, we can't keep going on like this, looking over our shoulders all the time, during or after regular hours. There has to be something..."

"This is my case, Sam, and mine only. It's about what Janvier once promised and damned, he kept to it. I've been sloppy and it nearly cost two innocent people's lives."

The bright blue eyes spit fire in a way Sam never expected at this moment. He breathed in deeply and replied "Don't go there, G. I can see how you're walling up. Closing in on yourself. Just… don't. We're a team, all of us. And you and I gone through crappy situations before. We can do this, together. With the others."

A short huff came from Callen's side, though not in a negative way. "I know, big guy… I know."

Sam noticed how his friend started writhing and flinching and although he also knew he'd better not prod he did say "Now it looks as you are in need of another powernap, G. How about I'll drop by in an hour or so?"

"Better," Callen said and he added "Holding my hand won't do, I reckon. I'll manage, Sam. You might want to assist the youngsters. There's no need to stay, you know."

Sam chuckled and agreed. "You're right, G. I've seen you sleep in the past already, nothing new to that. So, I'd better not hang around. Just… be sure you call me if you need anything."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen checked the large clock next to the entrance door to this room he was in and sighed deeply. He needed to know if he'd feel anything at all, anytime soon, so he would know for himself how bad it would be. Sure, he understood the reasoning of surgeons that it would be best to keep his arm completely immobile. Still… what if?

His mind was like a whirlwind. What if he'd never be cleared for field work again? He'd lose everything he ever had. Next to the persons he literally lost already, there would be the ones he would start missing if he had to stop working. If he'd lose his job, he'd go missing his friends too. His reputation. All that he knew he was good at. His abilities to be a ghost, to be who-ever the job wanted him to be. He'd lose himself. An office job wasn't what he aspired, it would bore him to death.

So he needed to know. Time was ticking by so slowly, but he knew he had to stay awake for just another short period until the medication needed to be replaced by a new injection. Not that he looked forward to that, but he figured that perhaps he'd be able to feel something moments before the replacement injection.

He needed to know, however, it scared him to death. The 'what-ifs' – he always hated it when other people never stopped asking those questions. Yet this time he was the very person who wasn't able to know what to decide. What if Janvier had won this battle? He wasn't too sure if he could handle that.

At least Callen was glad that he was alone. No-one around to prevent any of his own decisions nor to be around to comfort him.

He hoisted himself in a more upright position and looked at the bandaged arm and hand. The fingertips which still were sticking out. He could at least try. It took some minutes though till he had the guts to bring his left hand to the right one, but then he pinched the tip of his little finger. He pinched it hard, then sighed deeply.

Janvier shouldn't win.  
Not this time.  
He'd heal.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Moving On**

* * *

~ The best revenge is just moving on and getting over it. Don't give someone the satisfaction of watching you suffer ~

Anil Kumar Sinha

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This is indeed the final chapter of this storyline. And I would like to thank you, all of you, who read and who've left any reviews, I really appreciated all of them!

Kni®benrots

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Good Samaritan Hospital, early next day**

The doctor and the nurse just finished their visit in the room after what Roseanne Cruelly thought what was a regular checkup. She stayed in the waiting area until they left.  
They didn't share anything with her. Didn't notice her so it seemed and that is why they weren't asking why she was around either.  
So very different from when she the first doors, from the elevator to the nurses desk. Two security guards had asked for her ID and she had to explain why she was around, who she wanted to see and sign for that as well before they escorted her to this part of the corridor.  
She wondered if anybody would be able to enter his room unseen.

Rose remembered the words which were spoken the day before by the large, dark special agent whose name and number once was written on her skin. That fact alone seemed like ages ago.  
Sam. Yesterday she'd had a good conversation with him in this secluded part of the hospital. It was when he told her she could call him anytime she needed. It had been about the same words which were spoken by the psychologist the day before.

Instead, here she was, the same place she'd been before, in this hospital, watching a man who appeared to be sleeping.

His arm was fixed and immobile as it rested on a specially designed pillow. She imagined it wasn't a very comfortable position to sleep at all.

She herself had a bad night with hardly any sleep. Even at her father's place she had the feeling she wasn't safe at all. It might take ages before she ever would feel warmth and safety again, she figured.

All because of HIM.

Because of him, still, he was not to blame. Like her, he was a victim right now and physically he was worse off, much worse. He would suffer from the consequences of his actions quite some time and Sam Hanna mentioned that there were more enemies who were willing to take revenge.

This wasn't something that happened in any 45 minutes of the tv show she worked for. This was real life and it scared her more than she could imagine. How could anyone handle this?

She sat down as quiet as she could and felt sad, so much sadder than she envisioned. How was she going to move on from here? How was she ever going to feel safe again, not scared, feel able to protect her son? She wasn't that strong, not at all. Had it been the adrenaline? Her being with Peter? This man's strength empowering her as well? Not any longer.

She sighed and her next breathe hitched. Much to her surprise she felt how some tears now escaped from her eyes and she wiped them away, more or less angry with herself for feeling this... weak and lonely at this moment.

The quiet sobs still woke him.  
Despite the fact he remembered that he'd been examined earlier, Callen still felt extremely tired. Like he could sleep all day. It would heal his body, he knew, so he needed it. However, it wasn't like he was used to. A hospital mostly wasn't a place he was able to let sleep come this easy.  
He opened his eyes and most certainly never expected to see her around.

"Rose."  
Not a question, not a way to draw her attention. More like a conclusion.

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and hoped he never noticed that she'd been here, sitting and crying.

"Hey," she responded with a smile that never reached her eyes. "So you're awake."

Callen just nodded and tried to hoist himself up a bit, without a real result.

"Wait. You probably shouldn't do that. And… ehm, did I wake you? Never meant to. But…"  
It sounded like she was rattling, and she never meant to. Nervously in his opinion, perhaps. She inhaled deeply and tried again. "Callen. I was around here yesterday, since I wanted to thank you. For everything you did. And I'm so very sorry that… This should never have happened, and I should have prevented it that Peter was taken just like that. He's okay, though. He is, and so am I. But you—"

He coughed softly before he spoke. "It's okay. I'll be alright, and you should go home and be with your son."

"Home?" she sent him a wry smile and shook her head. "Your friends told me I can't return for the next few days or so."  
She saw how Callen frowned and so she continued "Eric. And Sam, they let me know that it would be better to stay with family. So Peter is with my father right now, and so was I. My dad's apartment is too small though, for three persons."

The place was compromised more than once when he lived there, but at least he knew about the dangers. So the house was still linked to him but worse, to her and her son as well.  
"They're right." Callen wasn't as sharp as the day before and he probably showed his fatigue.

"You need to rest," Rose said. "I just wanted to thank you, in person. And.." she sighed and shrugged. "Ah, I feel so silly. Gonna say it anyway. You know, I told you about my job, right? It means that every now and then I need to do some research. There was one episode which was written about two years ago, it was about homeland terrorists. And… This man, the one you spoke with on the phone. He's in jail, I know. And still he's able to get to you?"

She shouldn't know about things like this. This was his life, which he could handle. Not hers. She should live a happy life with the ones she loved. Callen tried to shrug, but his whole body let him down. He hummed confirmatively instead.

"You don't need to share everything Callen. About this research… President Trump let the public know that Guantanamo should be used for criminals like homeland terrorists as well. I used it for the show, S.W.A.T., on television, you know. It may stupid perhaps, but then I thought… Is it real, already? And is this person to be considered as a terrorist? You think your coworker Sam could find out about it?"

"Maybe."  
Callen didn't have a clue about this rule. "But Gitmo? Don't know about it. He – this man - was put away in jail in Iran before, you know. I hoped, rather figured we could get him back in there, perhaps."

"Iran? How on earth did he get back to the states, in jail?"

"Long story," he said. "The short version is that I was responsible for him getting imprisoned in Iran, and also for getting him out of there. Out of jail and out of the country. And for putting him in custody in the USA as well."

"Geez…" Rose said. She gazed at the wall in front of her as she let his words sink in. Had it been agent Hanna who told her that Callen had many enemies? This was quite serious indeed. "How can you—"

Rose didn't finish her sentence. This was his world, not hers. She tried again "I… I don't ever want to go through a situation like this, again."

"You don't have to. But maybe you have to move. Leave the house. Move on to protect yourselves, you and Peter. This man we're talking about knows the address, and he hired people this time. Enemies from another case. And now these people know about it too."  
There was no need, Callen thought, to tell her about the Comescu family, or the fear that somehow Mosley leaked intel which compromised this place. So far, Nell and Eric didn't find information about it, but there was no way to be sure that the house Roseanne Cruelly and her son lived in was completely safe to live in.  
"My agency could help with this, you know. Wished there was no need, but you have to, believe me. Try and find the best way for you to move. I'll think of it."  
He yawned, suddenly feeling tired to the bone right now.

"Like I said, you need to rest. Agent Hanna told me that somehow your spleen was damaged. With those wounds… and the infection you had." There was an uncertain smile and she added "Yeah, I know. Another silly detail I learned from completing scripts and trying to find facts for a tv-show."

Callen closed his eyes briefly, longing to be alone and go back to sleep. "Call Sam, Rose. He'll help you for now."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Way || 3 weeks later**

His left hand rested lightly yet with a deep warmth on her upper arm, and his clear blue eyes were fixed on her face, affection in his whole stance. After a few seconds he asked "You sure about the next takes?"

Rose nodded, returning his gaze with a confident smile.

Cameras were rolling and different from usual, Rose was working in front of them, with him next to her.  
She was used to being with her team, used to work like this on the street but behind the screens. This was her world, not his. Still, even with camera's aimed at him Callen was doing pretty okay for an agent who preferred to work undercover.

Even though he was far from healed, he looked much better and stronger too. His right arm was still bandaged but right now, with a jacket covering it, no one would notice.

"Alright then. Let's give it a go," Callen said as he let his left hand leave her upper arm and lowered it to the small of her back. It was a natural pose, true, but it felt awkward now he was supposed to act. In the past he played a role like this many times, but without audience, let alone with a camera aimed at him.

Rose made eye contact with the assistant and the cameraman. "You know you just have to wait until they're ready." She winked at him, long lashes covering her light grey eyes. Callen grinned back. "Glad you warned me."

More serious he continued "I'm glad you found another place, Rose. I mean… you need a place of your own again."

She nodded. "Once this is all… gone, and he's gone, you may come and visit us. You and Sam both. I'd really like that."

"Cruelly!? You ready?"

She lifted her arm and put her thumb up and yelled back "Yeah. We are!" She licked her lips and then, in a soft voice she addressed him "We are, right?"

"This is what we do," Callen confirmed. He lowered his hand again and waited for the next 'take' followed by a number. Once the words were spoken he bent forward slightly, softly let the fingertips of his right hand touch and feel her hair and then brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. Long enough for this scene to be filmed. Convincing enough for those who'd watch.

Then Callen let go of her, turned around and crossed the road as walked to the car which was parked opposite of the house. As he drove off, Rose's thumb went over her lips. She tried to look as dreamy as possible and slowly took the walk back. She inhaled deeply though once the door closed behind her. Nobody was filming right now. Nobody noticed her glances into the empty room. The dark wooden floor, the floor grate with its squeaks she got used to. The small but light kitchen… She moved through them all, one last time, and then opened the doors to the garden. Kept walking, automatically, until she met Sam and Callen who were waiting there for her.  
"You ready?" Callen asked.

She shook her head but replied with a soft "Have to be."

Callen nodded and understood. Again, he let his hand rest on her shoulder this time. "You don't have to watch, Rose. We could just leave and drive off, as long as you decide within the next minute."

Rose didn't reply but breathed out deeply and stepped back a little.  
Then Sam started counting down and once he was done, everything Callen had ever considered as his place, his home, everything Rose had grown to love as her house, was blown up from the front of the place. Debris landed close to them and Rose turned around, her arms protectively in front of her until she decided to lean against Callen's chest. Car sirens started to shriek, people were on the streets in matters of seconds, still, here they were, quietly watching how through the dust the place was ruined indeed.

"It's okay," he murmured. "This is what we planned."

"You're right. We'll be safe, and okay," she said. Her words were soft and although she sounded positive the look on her face was sad. "Thank you, both of you."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Naval Station Guantanamo Bay || one week later**

Sam adjusted his uniform jacket just a little until it felt comfortable enough. He watched his partner, dressed in the standard NCIS dark blue outfit.  
"You ready?" This time Sam used the same words as Callen had spoken a week before.

Callen sighed deeply. He shook her head but replied "Have to be, right? I don't ever, ever want to talk to this man again, Sam. But well… I just have to get over it. After all, I don't want to give him the satisfaction of watching me suffer."

"Damn, G. As if you didn't suffer." Sam shook his head. By now, most of the dexterity had increased again, but Callen wasn't able to use his right arm and hand fully yet. He motioned at the helicopter which came in flying from the north. "Don't let him win. Not ever," Sam said.

They waited until the chopper had landed and its rotors stopped spinning. Then is door opened and a uniformed petty officer got out, followed by Marcel Janvier's feet first, a chain between them to keep them closely together so there was no chance to run away. Once the feet were on the tarmac, the man got out. Hands cuffed as well. He was followed by another officer who grabbed the Frenchman's arms. The three of them started walking and only when they were near to where Sam and Callen stood, Janvier looked up. A wry and cruel half smile appeared on his face and he let his gaze go over Callen, from face to toes and back up, until he rested his gaze on the arms. Callen had his hands behind his back, his stance steady, feet solidly on the ground.  
With the characteristic drawl he addressed his foe "How's the hand, agent Callen?"

Callen managed to keep his gaze steady and unreadable as ever. "All 26 muscles work. Tendon, sinew functioning as well. Can't be said of your pity arm stumb."

Janvier shrugged as if it wasn't of any importance. "A pity that plan didn't work. Glad somebody else blew away everything and everyone which mattered to you, though…" Another wicked smile reached the man's pale eyes.

Anger now spit from Callen's eyes and he stepped forward and punched his left fist in Janvier's face first and immediately after in his ribs. "You goddamned bastard…" Another punch in the stomach.

"Stand down, agent!" one of petty officers ordered. He'd taken his weapon, not sure if he ought to use it or not.  
Callen raised his fist again but was stopped by Sam this time, who drew him back and without being able to reach Janvier's body any longer.  
"G! Come on man. He's not worth it."

He wiggled his jaw, turned around only half and let his right hand go over his face.

"Get moving," the officer now ordered Janvier. "Move on. There's a cell waiting for you. The last steps in the open air, ever, for you, mister, so keep moving on."

Without looking back, Callen started walking too, in the opposite direction. He reached the chopper first. Sam followed soon after and closed the door. He exhaled slowly and observed his partner.

There was a hesitation in Callen's face "You think he bought it?"

"He did, Callen. It was all over his face, the smug satisfaction, thinking he won. You surely still got the swagger, bro!"

The smaller man rested his back more relaxed against the seat. "Good." He tapped the pilot on his shoulder.  
"Let's get moving."

* * *

 _The end_

\- .moving on means we have to protect ourselves.-

Jojo Moyes

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading!_  
Kni®benrots


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